Guardians of the Earthen Seas
by Noon30ish
Summary: Pirate!AU. In the search for the Key, a power that can bring about Ragnarök and the subsequent end of the world, Drago will stop at nothing. But when the Key is no longer in the Skyward Seas, gods, mages, and humans alike will hunt it down, each for their own reason. And all Prince Hiccup wanted to do was sail the seas with his companions... Hijack. Rating may change.
1. Prologue

_Prologue_

* * *

Everyone said pirates were the essence of evil in the world. They appeased no gods and feared no death because of that. A pirate's only bind was to his captain and quartermaster. Most times, they were one and the same. But few knew the distinction.

The children in the village didn't know. They knew how to hop and skip, to play in the mud and take baths before dinner, preferably in that order. What they understood of pirates came from bedtime stories and eavesdropping on parents' conversations of news from the capital. It was never anything imminent. Fear was trite and short-lived.

One child always asked for more stories anyway. He wanted to know more than all the rest, for knowing more meant more power in his mind. One story said that one could see pirates following the moonlight more easily than trying to search for them in the daylight. When the village's lights were out for the night, his eyes opened. Outside his window, the water lapped against the stone wall. His house was little more than several stone slabs being eroded by the constant changing of tides. It had been cheaper than many of the other stone houses further up into the mountains that ended abruptly before meeting the Sea of Monaxir, where his house lay, perpetually drowning. It was infuriating, the way the children mocked him, even if they were younger. Where he lived didn't bother him, though. If he saw pirates before any of the other kids did, they would be awed by his bravery, by his ability to stand unafraid. His toes curled at the sheets and kicked them off of his body as he sat up. The anxiety rose and fell as he settled into the mess of sheets, sitting on his ankles with his feet bent together. Windowsill gripped, cool and calloused to the touch: perfect for finding pirates.

All night he stayed watch, eyes boring into the midnight waves, as dark as the forests behind him. Hallowed blue light quivered along white tips. The breeze tapered west in that moment, his hair blown back to expose an ashen forehead and plain irises. Just before collapsing back into the bed every night, he would glimpse a shimmer of dark fabric over the horizon. That night, he swore with all his might it was real.

Just like every other night.

But that was twenty years ago. The little boy became a bigger, taller boy that entered the kingdom's navy. He became the Vice Admiral on a warship, no less. It wasn't Admiral, of course, but he was so close. Rising through ranks as fast as humanly possible had been his goal. More power, leading with perfect poise, it was thrilling. But since the rise of piracy among Berkian waters, he learned protecting his wife and now 5-years-old daughter would take priority. When he made enough pay after gaining Admiral's position, he would send Emily to Central Berk for her professional schooling. He wouldn't let her leave until he knew it was safe for her to do so, and though Central Berk was a fortified city in the recess of a large bay, the word of heavy-hitting pirates surrounding the great nation was troublesome to him.

There were numerous, more gruesome stories told as he grew up. Pirates were despicable people, murderers and rapists and thieves and liars, every one of them. But, of all these things, they were fearful beings. And this man could respect fear. But to defeat fear, he had to be more fearful himself. That had always been his hunch, but it would take some time before he learned the truth of the statement.

The deck was polished to his satisfaction, noted as he walked along the railing, surveying the waters through his last watch of the night. Stationed just off the coast of Cynth, he was returning home after a rather boring six-month tour. Naturally, every seaman had been told they could relax on their return home─ if there had been no danger that far out to sea, nothing could hinder their way back─ so Vice Admiral was taking his sweet time strolling across the length of the vessel. It was soon to be his, he wagered. They would promote him to the next rank and he would be guaranteed not only this boat, but maybe even the whole fleet. He was sure of it. He'd even telegraphed home to tell the Lady and Emily that he'd be expecting them soon.

That was, until the moonlight wavered.

He whipped around, nearly tearing his tightly trimmed uniform in the process. But his eyes were trained on the three-mast argosy rising from the water's horizon, the lines leading the sails buffed large and billowy against the wind. Full speed, they would gain on the warship in fifteen minutes, and that was him being hopeful. Storming off, Vice Admiral took to the bell seated by the captain's wheel.

"We've got company," he whispered the code before pulling the dusty cord, slamming the metal knot against the inside of the copper bell, turned green by the life at sea.

Within a few minutes, the alarms were raised and seamen and soldiers took to the decks in formation, although groggy and some drunk. The Admiral stepped out from his chambers last, belting his musket and scabbard across his chest and waist. He grumbled something incoherent and stood in front, everyone standing at attention. Vice Admiral took his place beside the Admiral and they began walking toward the stern.

"What is it you have us taking up arms for when we're a day's away from home?" The Admiral's voice crackled with age, but his sheer willpower kept him a head taller and a step broader than anyone else on board. Commanding was his by nature. Oh, how Vice Admiral envied him.

Vice Admiral had to skip a step further to quicken his pace. "Pirate ship, Admiral, sir. Just off by a mile. Won't take them long with the speed they're at."

"Nonsense, there's hardly any wind, aside from the wave of drunken breath out on the main deck. And I doubt that would propel _us_ more than a few feet, all conditions proper." His lips tightened as the pair met the last railing at the furthest end of the ship. The argosy was staring them down, the height of its foremast alone dwarfing the warship's main mast. Miniature people barking imperceptible orders traveled their way.

The younger man looked to his Admiral in pained victory. "I wish I had lied, sir."

"You'd certainly be in less trouble if you had," was a whisper. "Men!" Admiral barked louder, turning back toward those geared for battle. "I didn't train you for nothing! Don't let them get near the mainland, near our families! Aim to kill. Take prisoners only when it is safe to do so. Now, fight with me!"

A rehearsed "aye-aye" was shouted amongst the privates, seamen, generals, even the janitors. Each took to their stations, generals yelling to soldiers, and lieutenants doing the same to the generals. Vice Admiral oversaw the fortification of the ship and nodded when things were the best they could be─ perfect otherwise dead. Cannons were readied, gunpowder was distributed, muskets were raised. His eyes drifted to the distant, familiar mountain as the ship turned away from it. Inside his jacket, he thumbed the necklace Emily had made for him before he left. The worn metal was warm against his chest. Deep breathe. _I'll be home soon, sweetheart._

"Daddy!"

Her voice. Harrowing, distressed, from behind him and not at home in her bed. Losing face, he ran for the stern once again. The argosy was closer, a ladder's length away. No. No, no. That wasn't right. She wasn't here. The boat wasn't this close. Obviously this was a product of too much time spent in the salty air. Oh, how he prayed that was true.

"Daddy!"

A split in his mind cracked open and his knees buckled. Pounding inside his temples was one of the worst headaches he had since the weeks when his newborn daughter wouldn't sleep. Several pirates had already climbed aboard and the clank and clash of swords on guns echoed through the railing patterns, jarring his thoughts. The unsteady thumping from the floorboards told him they were circling the perimeter and enclosing them, despite the voice constantly shouting _Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, DADDY, DA_ ─

But discipline and years of training pulled him back to his feet just as an arrow whizzed past, grazing the patch on his shoulder. Sneering, he withdrew his sword. Black, blocky, standard military issue, but sturdy and sharp and would do in a pinch. His gun would be too dangerous in the dark of the night because, although the moon was shining its brightest, telling fellow soldiers from foes was damned near impossible. No pirate swordsmanship could match his, that much he believed as he forced his way back to the deck, already swarmed with enemies and blood and the smell of spent gunpowder.

He somehow must have been on the ground a while, because there were more bodies and blood than just a moment ago. Formation was broken, meaning the men must have been fighting more than a few minutes in the dark. People were hacking, slicing, shooting, killing, without looking. The squelch of metal into flesh dulled in comparison to the grunts and screams that met his ears. Just before jumping into the fray, he analyzed the decks above, looking for the Admiral.

One heartbeat too late, he saw the glint of the blade peek through the seasoned man's chest. Blood spattered the captain's wheel and the dark crimson seeped under his clothing. Shouting, Vice Admiral took charge and made his way up the sidesteps at the side of the main deck and dodged fighting men, reeking of sweat and rum and fear. So much fear he felt he could drink it after pouring a cup from the atmosphere. His mouth watered.

Enraged, he hopped onto the quarterdeck, sword pointed forward, angled to catch the moon's light and shine it at the man who dared kill his Admiral. "Hey! Lowlife scum!"

Beady, dark eyes turned his way, glowing with the thirst of blood. The body of the Admiral slumped slowly to the ground, a dark pool staining the wood. A small cloud of heat evaporated from his back, swirling and floating away with the speed of the wind. A gloved hand, torn by grisly claws, grabbed at the smoke, curling it around his wrist. A clench of his fist and the smoke fused into his skin, made dark not only by the night but by this mysterious happening. Fear pumped in the Vice Admiral's veins and he found himself grinning. This was his chance. A lunge forward and─

"Daddy!"

His step faltered and his swing fell short as he was shoved back against the railing, faster than the eye could see. A fist balled the front of his uniform, making his chest tighten. His eyes darted around the deck, finding a frail thing tucked into the opposite corner. Dark, smooth hair swirled with the wind, never knotting, and a beautiful pallid face was struck with naive concern.

"Daddy?" Her lips moved like a fish gliding through a pond, calm but quick to startle. Her eyes were wide and glassy, legs tucked under her nightgown. "Daddy?"

The pirate let go of him and walked toward her.

Clearing his head, the Vice Admiral sprinted to her side and glanced his sword at the attacker, the killer. "Step away from my daughter," his voice growled low, inhuman, eyes still hunting the fear.

A grin was his reply. "We've already got her. Your wife, too. Precious little things, they are. Cynth is quite the beautiful town. A little too out in the open, though. Don't you think?"

There was so much anguish and death on the ship it made it hard to concentrate. This man… how could his ship have made it past the warships, gone to Cynth, and come back for filthy gloating? He turned to find his daughter wasn't behind him any longer. Facing the man again, he saw that several pirates appeared behind him, holding his wife and child. Their grip was so tight that the women cried out and thin beads of blood begged to trickle down their paper white skin. The Lady whimpered and shook her head slightly, eyeing the Vice Admiral with a look so brave it sickened him. He straightened his stance and met the pirate at eye level.

"You let them go."

The pirate's laugh stunted his plea. "You drive a hard bargain, I must say! What makes you think I'd do that?"

His face remained stoic, although he doubted the pirate couldn't hear his heart breaking his ribcage with every beat. "What do you want." It wasn't a question.

The grin was victory incarnate. "I want you to be pitch black."

Before he could ask what the man meant, his fingers snapped and the pirates unsheathed their swords. Not able to react fast enough, throats were sliced and screams became a bubbling, searing screech that died partway through. More cuts were made, slashing right and left, hacking the bodies as they fell to the floor and climbing on top of their fragile bones to sink their blades into the dying flesh repeatedly. Crunching, squelching, splattering. The Vice Admiral wailed, something in his heart shattering and falling in the cracks of the floorboards. He crawled, sword forgotten, as he pushed and shoved the pirates aside and cradled his Lady and daughter in his arms. Their hairs were coated in blood and chunks of skin, split and frizzed and knotted under his fingernails. Broken skin and bones and innards were already losing warmth. His breath came in short, agonizing spurts, tainted with stale air and fear.

So. Much. Fear.

His chest imploded and something very, very dark took foothold. The bodies slipped through his fingers and his glance fell. A hand was over his heart, the arm appearing from inside his chest. Blacker than the depths of the ocean, smoke poured from his being and his consciousness blurred into nothingness.

* * *

Pitchiner awoke from his sleep, disturbed but unafraid. Rolling his shoulders, cracking and stiff from deep sleep, he cleared his throat and checked the clock on the wall. It was a bit early, but he supposed getting up before the sun was okay once in awhile. It wasn't like he was going to go back to sleep anytime soon.

His time with the pirates on the _Rhaefr_ ─ slang for "reaper" in some language not Common Tongue─ left a permanent nightmare in his subconscious. Captain Fovos, as the grisly pirate called himself, plucked him up from the plundered warship, the only survivor. Fovos said he was the only man compatible with the Black Artes. Left with the pervasive details of the deaths of his wife and daughter, he followed the captain's orders and, within a few months, began climbing ranks again. It was all his empty shell knew to do. His eyes, dark in origin, dulled and shifted in color the longer he stayed under the captain's tutelage. They became a weak, dimmed amber. Sort of like the color of honey, but there was no warmth in the iris.

But that had been the cunning Vice Admiral's plan. Gain the ranks, gain the trust, and take back what was stolen. One night, he rode the shadows into the captain's quarters, and in a heartbeat, the captain was down by the same magic he had always used. Pitchiner─ Pitch, as Fovos had slandered─ thought it odd that he had died without a word, just a smile and vacant eyes. It mattered little at that time. After Captain Fovos was slain, he had his mind to himself again. The corruption and fear remained, but he was in control of himself and now, a crew of pirates at that. A crew of pirates that had pillaged hundreds of towns along the northern coast of the Berkian Peninsula without so much as a slap on the wrist from the central government. A crew he sailed into Cynth's army base and slaughtered in revenge. Brought home, his dark heart uncovered the captain's lies. His family was never taken from him, it was merely a trick of the darkness, but they had moved away when their loved one had not returned in several years. He never bothered to find them, for his memory faded long ago. The one memory that didn't fade, was the memory of being a powerful leader, strengthened by something rooted in his childhood.

The nation hailed him a prisoner-of-war that survived the deadly grasp of pirates and turned the tides of the war on debauchery. The King himself appointed Vice Admiral as his General Advisor of the Royal Court of Central Berk, the King's right hand man. But the King failed to answer his questions about the reason behind failing to protect their people. Even the more populous northern cities of Rossoya and Rejk had also been hit, and the largest military in the populated world had done _nothing._ So many died, why? And for what?

Becoming General Advisor, he learned on his own. Searching the archives and sitting in on international meetings with associates, he discovered the trade routes of the bourgeoisie-owned economy.

But worse than the injustice, worse than the turning of a blind eye, was the lack of fear these rich patriarchs felt and the lack of power from the surrounding nations. Pitiful, to allow their men to debase themselves to such levels of ignorance and weak will. But mind and will could be controlled.

And he would be the one to control them all.

* * *

 **A/N:** **Hey guys, I'm finally back! Remember months ago when I mentioned in my other works that I was planning/writing a Hijack Pirate!AU? Yeah, this is it! So much planning and editing has gone into this, and I want to thank eliazeravenfeather for all of her help with... well, everything!** **Coverart by Kingpin1055. Big thanks to him as well!** **You can find their various works on here and DA!**

 **Unfortunately, I can't link the map or preview it in the text files on here, so the map will have to be in a separate tab for those reading this on FF than those reading this on AO3 or DA. Therefore, the map for my AU can be found on my DA page by the same name. It may come in handy. ;)**

 **The first ten or so chapters will be posted quickly due to the slow build (and because that's all that I have prewritten at the moment). So stick around, as it's super important. Please do enjoy it! :)**


	2. Chapter 1

_Chapter 1 - Brother of Blood, Part I_

* * *

Hayden Horrendous Haddock III was a wee gangly thing for someone at the age of sixteen. So really, he was more of a hiccup than a Hayden. This was a common thing for those who lived in Berk, of course, if one wasn't royalty... or the King's son.

Oh. Right. Proper title: Prince Hayden Horrendous Haddock III, Heir to Central Berk and the Berkian Peninsula, known as "Hiccup" by his father and the palace servants, although the name didn't stick until later. He wore stunning and extravagant tailored waistcoats and cloaks laced with the finest of silk and gems, though he found it all rather tasteless. As were most of the people he found himself surrounded by.

All would have been fine─ he could have managed it until he took the throne─ if it weren't for the fact that he was so small. The poor boy had long been a disappointment to his father─ nearly his whole life, in fact. No matter how hard he tried to partake in more Princely matters: politics, etiquette, and matters of war; he could not put his heart into it. The two areas in which he could get away with this, however, would be in his intellect and his swordsmanship. It was true, his father believed the intelligence could better be applied toward the areas he was weakest and his sword could better be used in his _right_ hand, but the King knew where to draw the lines currently. He believed his boy would bulk up and take everything seriously soon. Hayden was just a little behind. He had been born early, after all.

Born early and taken away from his mother all too soon. Hayden had been told the story when they believed he was old enough, but deep down somewhere, he'd had a guess about it all along. Supposedly, the ruthless and uncivilized Esyrani people of the southern continent had broken past the Defense Archipelago─ a manmade series of islands surrounding the Bay of Berk that was maintained by Western Berk─ and tried to raid the shores of the most prosperous city on the Earthen Seas. That detail would always baffle the Prince, but he knew better than to argue with his father. Hayden was only a few months old when it happened. Either way, in his studies, Hayden had learned that the Esyrani had a custom of taking a chief's first born from a successful or failed raid back to the mainland to sacrifice to their gods as appeasement for their will of the fates. Hayden was supposed to be that sacrifice, but apparently his mother had taken his place. He had no way of knowing for sure, but it was fair to assume that his mother was dead. Everyone in the kingdom accepted her fate, and played the King and Queen's song every year as a remembrance for her.

This sixteenth year since the event, however, the King used it as his song of significance as he embarked on a journey to exact vengeance on the Esyran mainland much to Hayden's disapproval. The Prince would have loved to go sailing with his father, but not into battle. Despite being his father's son, he was passive to the extreme.

Including passive aggressive.

It had been a full month since his departure and Hayden was worried that he'd have to be crowned King early too. He knew not how to run a kingdom, as much as he'd tried to learn through the books. All that he really had learned through the books was that being ruthless would certainly get one the prize for a short while, but it would never be maintained that way. The Prince was silently thankful that the ruthless part had been done with for the Berkian Empire (as some of the higher royal members gloated) and he would merely have to seek ways to maintain the hold, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to do that at all. The Berkian bourgeoisie held all rights to trading, taxes, and sailing rights from the Sea of Dragons in the south to the Voreian Ocean in the north. These had mostly come into play during the Age of Pirates, some thirty years prior, but the rules unfairly held, even for the commoners. Thus, most of the Berkian Peninsula was hated. Hayden knew what it felt like to be hated. That had to change.

But he couldn't be the one to change Berk. He was one person among the thousands of aristocrats that would overthrow him at the first sign of weakness. The Prince felt like he was already down and out, and he hadn't even left the palace yet!

That's right: Prince Hayden had not seen the slightest notion of the outside world except from the view of his estate's various balconies and from the various traders that brought precious goods from lands Hayden had only ever read in ancient and outdated texts─ which never had any maps. The traders' stories, particularly those of Ol' Johann, intrigued Hayden greatly, despite the fact that they tended to be long-winded.

"Hiccup, m'boy!" Ah, there he was now.

Hayden glanced up from the mezzanine railing against which he had been leaning and snapped from his absent gaze. A light caught his eye and a smile crept onto his face as he glided (more clumsily than elegantly) down the staircase into the main entrance hall. Just past the doorway stood a man in honest clothing with a wide, dark brown beard tied with cloth, carrying a bag filled with who-knew-what. "Trader Johann!"

All formalities that prevented practically everything between a Prince and a commoner were forgotten as Hayden ran into Johann, embracing him tightly. "Any word of the world?"

"Aye, aye," Johann mumbled after dropping his bag haphazardly in an attempt to be prepared for Hayden's hug, "there are many a word, but I come bearing other news."

Hayden collected himself properly and gave Johann an upturned brow. "Is it good news... or bad news?"

"Ah, well," Johann scratched his beard, "it depends on how ya take it. You see, I was travelin' along the vast Sea of Dragons, and had nearly been taken apart by nasty bandits─ far different from pirates, m'boy, as pirates aren't much heard of─ and I narrowly escaped 'em by─"

"Johann!" Hayden glared. He may love the trader's stories, but if there was other news, he'd have to know that first.

"Ah, right, right," Johann shook his head, "well, I caught wind of the King. I was able to board his ship on the returning voyage and sent me with some loot─ I mean─ treasures. It seems his raid has been successful. I left the boat for a faster clipper sailin' by. He'll be home by tomorrow, should there be fair winds. An' he seems rather pleased with himself. I'd say you might even get to leave the palace after this one."

Hayden blew air out his nose in contempt. His father's revenge was done with, so there was that, but now the King had more leverage against Hiccup's affinity for peace. "Yeah, like my father would ever let that happen."

Johann frowned. He had known the Prince for many years and─ though it was interspersed through his travels─ he knew when something was wrong with the young boy. But he also knew just what would cheer him up. "I've got wares you can choose from this time, Hayden. An' your father won't be any the wiser!" Johann winked.

Hayden's toothy grin widened at the prospect of finding more sea treasures to keep in his room. Last time Johann had come through, Hayden had picked out various trinkets─ shells, compasses, spyglasses (all broken) ─ and used them as the subjects for his sketches. Yet another thing his father was semi proud of but also disappointed in─ what was a Prince to do with well-mastered sketches? There was no need to sell them for money when he was the Prince of a bourgeoisie kingdom. This time, however, Johann had pieces that weren't broken. When trying to pay the trader for his goods and service, Johann refused. _They're all yours, m'boy._ As thanks, Hayden offered Johann a suite in the palace, something which the simple tradesman would never refuse, and fetched some servants to prepare his space. Then the Prince retired to his own chambers to sift through his new additions.

A working silver compass and chain, an empty parchment sea scroll, a thick sword with the hilt of some sort of lizard─ _be careful, it burns to the touch,_ Johann had warned, although Hayden could not detect the danger when he held it─ and a book of dragons written in Esyrani script (a language he had been studying behind his father's back, to boot).

* * *

On the evening of the next day, Hayden received his father, the King, at the entrance hall. Many Berkian dignitaries had dressed elegantly for the occasion, and the Prince was no different. He wore the fanciest green-sleeved shirt he had with a scarf of white frills protruding from the opening in his collar and a brown double-breasted waistcoat. His boots were of the finest brown leather on the Peninsula and his cloak was made from a fine brown fur. In his rush to get ready at the last minute (he had been drawing without looking at the time), Hayden had forgotten to comb his hair and the result was a wind-tousled mess that swept over his green eyes. Hopefully his father wouldn't notice.

The large double doors that spanned the entire length from floor to high ceiling opened and a giant man almost seven feet tall stomped proudly into the room. He had a wild red beard that flowed like lava from his chin down to his belted waist─ and his personality was much the same. As the King made his way down the corridor, the servants that lined the walkway bowed before him in respect. But the King paid them little attention as his eyes were on his son. But the look on his face was jovial as he unceremoniously brought the Prince into a tight bear hug lasting far longer than ever acceptable.

Hayden, his arms strapped painfully to his sides in the embrace, tapped his father's side with a finger. "Dad," he whispered so that the others couldn't hear, "dad─ okay, I missed you, too─ uh, I think you should return to being 'King' again."

The King straightened his royal garb and his son's autonomously, clearing his throat. "I have a gift for you, son," the man smiled brightly before turning to the hall still filled with many onlookers. "I, King Stoick the Vast of Central Berk and the Berkian Peninsula, have wreaked havoc against the Esyrani, the killers of my fair Queen! The Esyrani King and Queen have fled their great city of Anoi and have nothing but regret to haunt them!" His voice bellowed throughout the great hall and many were clapping and cheering─ Hayden doubted any of them understood the amount of death in that statement. Well, _he_ hardly knew how much death that statement implied, but he knew better than to dwell on that fact.

"And for my son's part, I've given him his own say in avenging his mother's death!" The King continued, invigorated for the coming act.

Hayden's heart plummeted at the words. What had his father planned for him to do now? In front of _all these people?_ Surely the words "avenge" and "death" were not the most pleasant-sounding.

"General Pitchiner, bring in the captives!" The King commanded at the end of his speech, which Hayden hadn't been listening to.

The Prince's eyes were brought forward, thanks to his father forcing his chin to look a particular way, and what he was about to see shattered any preconception he'd had about the Esyrani. Pitchiner, the King's right hand man and advisor to the royal throne for many years, was tall and thin─ built more for his brain than for his brawn, similarly to Hayden─ with golden eyes and excellently groomed black hair. He bowed to the King with a look on his face that Hayden couldn't quite place as he turned to grab a set of chains just outside the doors. The general brought in three dark skinned people, both wrists bound by rope and ankles shackled by iron, and all their faces downcast. The first two brought in were male and female. They were of extraordinary height and had dark brunet hair with dark eyes. Their ribs were showing─ seeing as Esyrani clothing was rarely considered modest─ but they were not lacking muscles, either. Neither looked at each other nor at anyone else, but not out of fear. Out of spite more so than anything else. Hayden narrowed his eyes and a twitch of his lip was all that showed he was displeased. He knew his father meant well. But what did he intend Hayden to do with captured Esyrani?

"Son," Hayden's head whipped to face his father. Then the Prince realized that he was holding out a ceremonial sword to his son, the hilt decorated with impossibly expensive gemstones. Hayden paled as the reality registered in his mind. "You will choose a proper vengeance on those who killed your mother. I've brought them to you; you choose one."

 _He wants me to kill an innocent?!_ Hayden took the sword in shaky hands, the weight of the sword nearly dropping his entire body, completely alien from the practice swords he would use with his dueling tutors. This was a terrible test. When he was able to compose himself again, his eyes locked onto the third captive.

This captive's eyes were Hayden's eyes. Bright, forested greens that took in every inch of sunlight and reflected it back out into the world without restriction. But where Hayden's were cautious and curious and scared, this boy's were strong, daring, and fearless. The boy seemed to be taller than Hayden, but not by much, and he certainly wasn't nearly as tall as the other two captives. He also wasn't nearly as skinny. This boy had muscles that surpassed his age─ whatever that was─ and his chest heaved as if he had just recently picked a fight. His hair was the deepest raven black that rivaled General Pitchiner's, tied back in an impossibly long and messy braid. His pants were slightly darker than his skin and he wore black boots made out of material that Hayden had never seen before. The boy wore a long leather necklace with a tooth that belonged to some large, unknown creature knotted into it. Without any precursor, Hayden carefully marched down the steps where he'd stood with the King and made his way toward the boy, not paying mind to anyone else in the room. As he got closer to him, the Esyrani boy backed up and bared his teeth.

" _Ehmr morfi ywaategh_ ," the boy hissed under his breath. He was about to back up further when he received a slap from Pitchiner and an order to keep silent. But Hayden doubted that the boy understood Common Tongue. It was a good thing that he'd gotten very interested in the Esyrani language some time ago. _Get away from me,_ Hayden translated in his head roughly.

" _Uoyi truhi... thonr lai,_ " Hayden muttered sloppily in the foreign tongue. _I mean you no harm_... or at least he hoped that was what he was saying. He reached out for the boy's wrists when they were yanked back.

Hayden looked up and the startled look on the darker boy's face signified that Hayden's translation was probably correct. " _Wohiknr_?!" the boy gasped in alarm. _You understand?!_

 _More or less,_ Hayden bit his lip in concentration. What was he supposed to do? All eyes were on him and they all expected him to execute the boy purely for show. Hayden palmed the sword, tapping his fingers against the hilt and thinking a thousand leagues a minute. When a half-thought-through idea entered his mind, he figured it was his best shot. " _Sei, sei,_ uh..." Hayden placed the awkwardly gigantic sword between the boy's tied palms and started cutting upward through the ropes, accidentally cutting his own finger when the first rope snapped, "uh... _Ehmr raebu tsuji._ " Hayden prayed to every god out there that he had asked the boy to go along with the charade. But he also could have said something about bears. Oh well.

The boy raised a black eyebrow and winced as the sword finished slicing through the ropes and a small piece of his palm, causing it to bleed. He looked down and gasped something that Hayden didn't catch. The boy's wrists were free. The visitors and servants who could see this close perspective erupted into baffled clamor. Hayden knew he had to act fast.

Spinning in front of the boy and holding his open palm to the crowds, the hall was silenced and the King─ who had begun angrily advancing─ stopped in his tracks. Hayden cleared his throat and mustered his best public speaking voice, which was still leaving something to be desired. "I, Prince Hayden Horrendous Haddock III, Heir to Central Berk and the Berkian Peninsula, have proclaimed my vengeance! Er, this boy─ though a killer of my beloved mother─" Hayden hated and disagreed wholeheartedly with that statement, but he grit his teeth and continued, "─ shall be my personal servant for the rest of his days, and my sons' servant after my death, should he outlive myself." It was harsh, but he knew that the boy wouldn't understand and for now it was the best Hayden could manage. Perhaps he'd find a way around this predicament at a later date. For then, it would have to do.

"Release him," Hayden ordered General Pitchiner without looking in his direction. Out of the corner of his eye, the Prince saw a sneer settle onto the General's face for a split second before putting on a fake smile and complying. Hayden had always had suspicions about the royal advisor, but he'd never been given enough evidence to mention anything to his father. Nevertheless, the General released the shackles on the boy. Everyone inched back, believing that the boy would run away, but he merely walked around to face Hayden, green eye to green eye. The stare held for a few moments before the darker boy nodded slightly and returned to where he had been standing behind the Prince.

"And what would you like me to do with the others, your Highness?" Pitchiner spoke just loud enough for the King, a few feet away, to hear.

Hayden bit his lip again and continued. "I would like them to be released as well. They can be regular servants on the grounds. Let the Groundskeeper be in charge of them from there."

"Gobber!" The King took the initiative and signaled the Groundskeeper over to them. A stocky man nearly the King's height with a blond moustache ambled up to them, a wooden prosthetic clacking on the ground every other step. At the King's command, Gobber took the other two released captives and escorted them down the hall toward the inner gardens and servants' quarters. Hayden and the King both knew that, despite the man's size, Gobber was a kind soul and would treat them as they should be treated. Although Hayden was happier about that than the King, he would not say so in front of so many. Hayden bet that he was going to get reprimanded later that night, but he would hold his tongue until then.

When all was squared away, Hayden turned around to face his new servant and whispered so that nobody would hear that he could speak the language forbidden in Berk. "Uh... _uoyis emahnr tahwi?_ " The Prince had asked the boy his name.

The boy stared guarded at the Prince. Something danced in his eyes for an instant and he glanced away when he answered. " _Tyran. Emahnr ohot?_ "

"Hayden," the Prince stated simply in his normal accent. "Your name is Tyran?"

Tyran nodded slowly then said something unintelligible. Hayden shrugged his shoulders as an answer and motioned for the boy to follow him. He had walked a few paces before he realized that the Esyrani hadn't moved his feet. He'd moved his hand. It was held up in front of him, palm toward Hayden, with his fingers straight but relaxed. At first, Hayden's understanding was that Tyran was telling him to stop, but then he remembered from his forbidden studies that this was some sort of welcoming tradition... or a sacrificing ritual. It was a little puzzling as Tyran was the guest of sorts and not the host, but Hayden though the boy had figured this was most appropriate. Or Hayden was reading the situation _entirely_ wrong.

Hayden approached the boy again, seeing accurately now that Tyran was in fact a whole head taller than he was, and brought out his right hand toward him. Tyran snaked his hand away and bared his teeth as if on some instinct, and Hayden stopped his advance. The Prince held out his hand like Tyran had first done, and Tyran eyed it curiously. Tyran did the motion again, holding his hand still in front of him and not moving it. Hayden's hand moved closer again and Tyran hissed but didn't move his hand. Hayden turned away and winced, expecting an attack, but instead Tyran's hiss stopped. The Prince's eyes eased open and looked toward the boy, earning another hiss. Hayden glanced away and let out a long breath. _Let's try this,_ he hoped as he eased his hand outward, not entirely sure if he was anywhere close to the Esyrani's hand as he was trying not to look. His hand was extended as far as it would go and he still felt nothing. _Great, he backed away, he'll probably never trust_ ─

A warm palm matched his and Hayden slowly eased the tension in his posture as his eyes lay on the boy before him. Tyran was standing as he had been, his hand against Hayden's, and he was looking at the Prince in an earnest, unwavering gaze. Hayden could feel the boy's pulse in his palm and fingers, beating against his. The Prince met his gaze and for a moment everything was still. In that moment, Hayden understood Tyran and the boy understood him. Then the blood from their cut hands seared and something clicked and there was a burning sensation that seemed to weld their hands together that spread throughout Hayden's body, setting his mind on fire. But as soon as the feeling was there, it was gone and Tyran had been ordered by some servant off to the side to follow. Tyran, understanding the term "follow" from Hayden's previous attempt, did so, leaving the Prince alone in the entrance hall.

 _See you later, Hayden,_ a voice called out in his head.

* * *

 _Translation Notes:_

It is not called the "Esyrani mainland" due to the fact that the Esyrani language implies that the land is of the land, not of the people; anything of the people is Esyrani, while anything of the land is Esyran.

All the words in Esyrani will be translated or at the very least made sense of in the story, so no direct translation will be made unless it is an important term. The language will not be used often past the beginning.

* * *

 **A/N: Woo! First Chapter! Yay!**

 **I'll be moving back into my dorm room tomorrow, so this chapter should suffice until I've settled in for a day or two.**

 **Remember that the map to my AU can be found on my DeviantArt page!**

 **Please do enjoy! :)**


	3. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2 - Brother of Water, Part I_

* * *

A boy with bright brown hair that shone orange in the evening light was playing a small clay instrument as he strolled down a small dusty road, a simple staff hooked onto his shoulder. The breathy notes strung a tune that sounded like a tranquil forest, swaying with the gentle breeze that played through the leaves. But when he saw the first glimpse of the town within reach, he strung the ocarina around his neck and tucked it into his dirty white cotton shirt. He took the staff off his shoulder and idly spun it as he headed into the cobbled streets filled with men and women coming back from work and children winding down from a day's worth of play. The kids who saw him as he strolled down the street all recognized him and begged for him to play with them before they had to leave for their bedtimes. There was one little blond girl that was so brave as to tug on his leather vest until he followed her to a small paved area beside a rundown red house just so that he would play hopscotch with her and her brother. The boy obliged, always happy for a game if he had time, but he cut it early with a hug and a poke of their noses, saying that he would be back tomorrow. He had someone important to meet.

He continued his measured stroll until he found the seaside docks. The boy was never a fan of the ocean, and he couldn't see why people would want to go out on a boat in the ocean when there was a perfectly acceptable lake on the other side of their small town. The ocean was far too vast and it was too easy to get lost─ or worse, sink your boat and drown. That had been the downside to the boy's wish to see the world; he didn't like water all that much. This was a terribly important issue in the Earthen Seas─ where most of the world was water. The island of Kidemonas was the largest island in the archipelago, so that was something, but it was still an island. And Burgeon was a small, forgotten town on that island. The town was on the wrong side of the island in terms of the rest of the population, but not by accident. Burgeon was the first settlement, where people came from the lands to the north to settle somewhere a little more manageable. Burgeon was built on land that was at sea level, and thus was prone to inconvenient flooding. All was fine and great with that, but when the nearest groups of people were on the other side of the largest island, it got a little lonely. His current circumstances didn't ease the loneliness, either.

"Jack!" a girl's voice cried out from further along the boardwalk. The boy, facing the wrong direction initially, spun around and instantaneously grew a smile that reached from ear to ear. A shorter teen girl with the same brown hair and eyes ran toward him and showed no sign of stopping, so Jack was forced to pick her up and spin her around, nearly losing his balance in the attempt.

"You're getting way too big for this, Emma!" Jack huffed as he settled her down and made a show of trying to crack his back. A teen around his age walked up to them and stood, waiting patiently to be introduced. He had platinum blond hair cut short and light grey eyes that rarely left the girl, sending unease through Jack.

Too bad she didn't notice it. "Are you calling me fat, Jack? Some brother you are!" Emma punched his arm and then realized that she was still being rude. She turned toward the unknown boy and introduced them. "Jack, this is Jasper. Jasper; Jack. He was the one Mother told you about the other day. He wanted to take me out to the docks and we were able to go on a ride with one of the fishermen! No fishing though; fish are gross!"

Jack shook the boy's hand. "Hello," he said in the most cheery voice he could muster. He wasn't too keen on meeting his sister's suitors.

"Good evening, Jack," Jasper nodded curtly, stealing glances at Emma all the while, "Emma and I had a wonderful time. I hope to see her again soon, if that so pleases her family."

Jack glared at the boy, taller than him and around his age and pining for his much younger sister. Sure, she was of courting age, but just barely. Jack did not think it appropriate, not for his little sister. She would constantly say that he was too protective, but Jack had a knack for reading into people. And he did not like this "Jasper."

"You will hear from us if it does," Jack answered coldly and dragged his sister away from the docks by her arm. After a few halfhearted protests, she stopped arguing and walked alongside her brother for the three-mile journey back to their home. She turned around to see if her suitor was still there, but to her disappointment and bewilderment, he wasn't. It left her wondering if he had actually been scared by her brother or if he really had no interest in her. Not many people─ no one, really─ was scared of Jack, but the second option didn't seem right either.

The town was beginning to settle down for the night even though it was hardly seven in the evening. Few things were open late, seeing as families wanted to spend time with each other for dinner and quality time, but that was normal for small places like this. Besides, stocks of anything but seafood were running low and it would be another week at least before the traders from Synerthos brought their biannual amount of goods for the entire town over the mountains. The town was cut off from virtually all civilization, being one of the easternmost settlements, only communicating with other inhabitants of Kidemonas through land traders. Ships often couldn't make it through the strait between Kidemonas and Delfinae during trading seasons because the tides would be too low overall for any ship to pass through. Because of this, stocks ran low and with that, many families did, too. That was why their mother had agreed to let Emma try her suitors─ especially those from the wealthier fishing families─ to see if they could gain ground in their puny economy. Jack, on the other hand, thought that was entirely the wrong reason for his sister to think about getting married at such a young age when _he_ should have been married off five years ago if the same rule applied. Not that he wanted to, but he surely didn't want his little sister married off so young. He should be the one to shoulder the family's financial trouble.

"Are you going to do that to every suitor?" Emma hissed at Jack when they had left the majority of the town behind them.

"You've been asked ten times since you turned thirteen," he argued, "and that was only three months ago. Do you know how many I've had the fortune of meeting since I was thirteen? Hmm..." he pretended to count in his head, "ah, yes. Three. Tia, Ana, and Bri."

"I'm just prettier than you," She batted her eyelashes and laughed when Jack shoved her slightly off the path. As she regained her footing and returned to his side, she continued. "You should relax. Jasper's only a little older than you and I was the first girl that said yes to him. Perhaps there's still hope for a child like you."

"I'm sure he's said that to _every_ girl he's asked," he quipped, rolling his eyes at the comment. It was true, he was eighteen and eligible, but he was also very single. The girls he'd asked before he'd only asked because he knew that they liked him. He himself didn't hold romance too closely. Who wanted to move into responsibilities so quickly, anyway? He'd enjoy childhood for as long as he could, and even then, he'd have to be forced to marry. And probably _after that_ he'd still be running around with the younger kids, joining in their various games.

But Emma had been silent for a few minutes and Jack was starting to worry. He was about to ask his little sister if he'd gone too far when she mumbled a question seemingly out of nowhere. "Do you think Selina doesn't want me to get married?"

Selina, the Moon Goddess of the Earthen Seas, was held with the highest regards a deity could ever have bestowed upon them. In Burgeon, the ancient texts depicting her were protected and people prayed to her daily. For everything right, wrong, concerning, or praiseworthy, her name was called. If you wanted to ask some grand question and sought an answer, you had to ask her and wait for a sign. And if there was no sign from her, then it must be fate! In other words, it was impossible for her _not_ to exist. It was infuriating, the extent that some people went to in order to preserve the ideology.

Jack's scoff turned into a long and light laughter that echoed off the sloping forest hills. He wasn't trying to be rude, but Emma was old enough to understand, wasn't she? "Selina doesn't care if you get married. She's named after a giant rock in the sky that influences the tides every month. She's probably not even a 'she'! Honestly, Emma," he looked at her, his face suddenly serious, "you can't really believe someone like that is real, can you?"

"Jack─"

"No," he cut her off, stopping them in the middle of the road, "Selina is nothing but a bedtime story that teaches kids to listen to their parents. She doesn't grant people wishes like some sort of genie─ which _also_ doesn't exist─ and she doesn't answer prayers! You asked for a doll for your tenth birthday, remember? Did you get that doll?" When Emma didn't say anything, Jack continued. "When the entire village asked for rain or a bountiful harvest, did we get one?"

"Maybe she thought it─"

"She didn't _think_ anything, Emma! That's what I'm telling you! She's _not real!_ " Jack was close to shouting now.

But close was close enough. Emma's lips were quivering and her eyes were brimming with unshed tears. Her hands were in small fists at her sides and she appeared to struggle with something warring inside of her. "If I pray that she won't smite you for that, will you still live?" And with that, she took off running down the road. Jack stood still where he'd stopped to finish his rant.

 _What have I done?_ The guilt solidified his feet in place.

* * *

When Jack got home, he was greeted with the sight of his sister being cradled by their mother, Mrs. Overland. The mother glared at her son as he walked in the door and he hung his head low, knowing what he had done. It wasn't long before apologies were in order, however, and things had mostly been repaired in the household. Things had to work efficiently in this house because without their father around it was hard to keep everything else together. Jack, being the only able bodied man in this house, worked at the docks on the lakeside. The lake was settled on a plateau well above the town, accessible only by one known road. However, Jack's house had a secret route from the side of the house adjacent to the rest of the town below that made its way toward the lakeside farther inland. He gave rides to those who could afford it, cleaned boats when they got too much algae on their hulls, and took care of fishermen's gear when it was hauled in for the night. Today was his one day off, so he had been able to pick up his sister. Of course, he goofed off during work when he could get away with it, but goofing off wasn't entirely enjoyable when he didn't have his sister beside him. He loved her and wanted to protect her like their father had never been able to do.

Their father had been a fisherman on the seaside docks. The house always had a bunch of fish─ not that the children really liked fish that much as long as they didn't have to see them before they were cooked─ and a good amount of money for safekeeping. But one day when Jack was five and his mother was pregnant with Emma, Mr. Overland had been called away for work on the high tides. The fish were bountiful and they were promised a raise that would have guaranteed their father's early retirement. They would have been set for life and lived comfortably for the rest of their days. So it was no wonder that Jack's father took the job. What everyone had feared─ and prayed for Selina to prevent─ had happened. The ship was caught in a heavy storm that erupted with a waterspout and nothing was left to be salvaged. His ocarina was all that Jack had left of his father. The town paid enough for the man to be buried properly and nothing more, which was a lucky thing considering many other bodies were never even recovered. The money the Overlands had saved slowly began to dwindle as they had to pay for more and more things that had previously not been so hard to obtain. In this way, Jack had already had a taste of a pleasant life and had it ripped away from him but Emma had only known this terrible life. Jack hated it. He hated the sea for taking his father away. He hated Selina for allowing this to happen.

That was when he stopped believing.

But tonight wasn't about that. Tonight was about cheering up his sister. So far, after apologies, it had worked. No one could ever be mad at Jack, either, it turned out. A few of their favorite childhood games later and Emma was laughing in his arms again. Their mother watched them with eyes full of concern and maternal love from the kitchen where she was cleaning up from dinner. It was raining hard outside, but that was normal; it rained hard most nights. Jack was truly a gift and a curse, she thought half-jokingly.

"Jack, Jack!" Emma shook his arm excitedly. "Can you play that song again? Please?"

"Again?" Jack breathed out as he finished the last long note on his blue ocarina still tied around his neck. She'd just asked him to play that song─ the one that started slow and labored and ended fast and flitting as his fingers fluttered over the notes with one last, long, high note─ and she wanted to hear it again? "Fine, but only if you sing the second-to-last verse!"

Emma groaned in a very unladylike fashion that made him chuckle. "Why do you never play the others?"

"I just picked one! Besides, they're all the same and it's super repetitive─ like you're being right now!"

She stuck her tongue out but agreed anyway. And with that, he started the song again: a slow and momentous build started with higher notes and the occasional trill─ some with the wrong notes. Then there were the lower notes that began to play a part of the first verse. Emma stared at her brother, appalled that he was going to make her count out the measures for _every verse_ until the verse she was supposed to sing. That was impossible. Ah, but with a smirk dancing on Jack's lips and a twinkle in his eye, his tempo sped up and the verse Emma was supposed to came started and she had to sing faster to keep up with him.

"Ah─! _To love and kiss, to_ ─ Jack, wait!

 _For the dancing and the_ ─ too fast!

Jack, stop─ _sorrows and delights_

 _I'll keep your love_ ─ Jack, that's not fair!"

But Jack had already ended the verse and Emma was belting out in a voice that was halfway singing and halfway breathless laughter alone in the still house. He dropped his ocarina to his chest and fell to the floor holding his sides and laughing without restraint. Emma, though smaller, was annoyed enough by her brother's antics to tackle him and tickle wherever she could while he was down and out. Jack caught onto the attack but couldn't help himself; if he was getting tickled, he was vulnerable. Therefore, he let the play fight continue until he could get a firm grasp on his sister's waist and hoisted her into the air with his hands and feet. Her shriek turned from fearful to happy as she spread her arms wide and pretended to fly.

As he let her down gently, he was surprised by Emma's next statement. "It sure would be something if we could fly, wouldn't it, Jack?"

As for the brother, he was still lying on his back and staring at the ceiling where his sister's smiling face had been a few seconds ago. His light brown eyes searched the knots in the wood for some sort of answer. Instead of finding an answer, he closed his eyes and smiled. "If we could fly, don't you think we'd have wings?"

Emma giggled. "I guess... We'd look pretty silly, huh?"

Jack returned the giggle and glanced at her sideways, the both of them lying on their backs on the floor. "Just imagine my cloak," he pointed to the article hanging on a wall hook by the door, "but like, a part of my arms instead of being tied around my neck."

Emma spread her arms and legs and flapped as if she were making a snow angel, then shook her head with a grin. "I don't think you'd fly very well with that, Jack. It's way too heavy."

He turned to face her with a cocked eyebrow. "I didn't say the cloak _exactly_ , you dork."

His sister pouted. "I was just─"

"Excuse me, loves," their mother peeked into the bedroom unexpectedly, already in her sleepwear. Neither kid had realized how late it had become. "I absolutely adore it when you play, Jackson, but I think it's time for all of us to head to bed, okay?"

Jack smiled sheepishly. "Okay, Mom."

"Night, Mom!" Emma jumped up and hugged her, Jack following closely behind.

"Goodnight, and may Selina watch over you," their mother ended their night with the common saying that drove Jack into a quiet anger for the rest of the night.

The night that kept raining, and raining, and raining...

* * *

 _Translation Notes:_

 _Selina_ [seh-LEE-nah] comes from the Greek word for the Moon ( _selini_ ), but is also in reference to _Selene_ , the Greek goddess of the moon. In this story, she is the prevailing goddess over people of Kidemonas, Delfinae, and a little of the Teristasian Archipelago (unofficial name of the islands on the right side of the map).

* * *

 **A/N: Good news! I'm moved in and have all my classes settled.** **Bad news! My classes insist on multiple end-of-term papers.** **Better news! Chapters will be out every three days.** **Worse news! The line above is only true until chapter 10.** **Optimistic news! I'll be writing as much as I can without hurting my grades.**

 **Please do enjoy and have a good day/night! :)**


	4. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3 - Brother of Blood, Part II_

* * *

The Prince, for the life of him, could not figure out what had occurred on that first day. It wasn't until days later, when Tyran had been forced to wear servant apparel. Although they'd met several times before the Esyrani had become his official servant, Hayden remembered overhearing Tyran's indignations about having to remove his Esyrani garb for the more colorful and uncomfortable servants' dressings, since he had been hiding behind the door to the servants' quarters. Tyran's tooth necklace was the one item that he didn't want to lose. And yet, when he tried to tell them he wouldn't take it off, he had hurriedly shouted "No! I'll be toothless!" and the Prince couldn't stop himself from chuckling, revealing his hiding place. It was then that it happened again. That voice inside Hayden's head. It only happened when Tyran─ now dubbed Toothless─ was close, and still it was very faint.

Over the weeks they had begun to know and enjoy each other's company, however, the voice became more prominent. The Prince had no idea how to answer to such a phenomenon that shouldn't exist. Magic didn't exist, he'd been taught that since a young age. Then what was this?

 _It's a_ milmyan _link,_ Toothless answered his thoughts for the billionth time that week. They were sitting around aimlessly in the library, Hayden feathering through books and folding pages for later reference and Toothless batting away the dust antics didn't stop him from continuing his rather dry and convoluted explanation of mind-speaking.

The servant scowled. _It's not convoluted! I asked if you would be my_ traethinr. _My counterpart. We can talk to each other this way. I probably sound like I'm talking in Common Tongue, don't I? That's because in the link, we understand each other. In my head, you sound like you're talking in Esyrani..._ he finally caught the particle of dust, only to brush it off the table and pinpoint a new target. _Well, better Esyrani than you already do. Unless I did it wrong,_ Toothless frowned at this exact moment, and Hayden was uneasily close to believing that they were indeed using telepathy.

 _I just─ I wanted to thank you for saving me. That King... I remember him taking me from somewhere. Something hit my head, so I don't remember much of the actual raid... but I remember the King. And he brought me to you, so the_ Esyrado _must have a plan._

"Why are some of the things you say still in Esyrani?" Hayden─ or, as Toothless referred to him now that he had heard the other servants doing the same, Hiccup─ asked aloud. He could not figure out how to do what the other boy was doing, nor did he think he would be able to. He picked up his books and ushered them out the door toward his room. "Let's go into the workshop, it's more private. No one can… uh, hear us."

 _Figures..._ Toothless pursed his lips and followed the Prince out to the hallway, through his room, and into the little workshop─ a room hidden from view so that his father wouldn't find it so easily and be even more disappointed in his son─ as he thought in a slew of words Hiccup had rejected as white noise.

 _The_ toaidiathi _must not have been completed. Am I missing something?_ Back and forth, to and fro, the Esyrani bemused himself while making a mess of the workshop because he wasn't watching where he was going. Hiccup had stopped trying to tell him to not do that forever ago. The workshop was too cramped for two people, but at least that made it somewhat easier to clean.

"You didn't answer my question," Hiccup muttered helplessly as he put his selected books down and took out his sketching paper. Normally, he sketched alone because it was bothersome to anyone else. Toothless, on the other hand, loved Hiccup's sketches and would watch him eagerly. One time, Hiccup had allowed the boy to try it for himself, but they soon found out his drawing skills were rather... lackluster. On the other hand, Hiccup had been able to teach Toothless the Common Tongue through the drawings and writings and the strange link─ telepathic─ thing.

 _I told you, it's not telepathy! And the words you hear in Esyrani must not be in Common Tongue!_ Toothless growled.

"And I thought I told you to speak out loud to work on your Common Tongue!" Hiccup lay his pencil down. But his elbow hit his desk and the pencil rolled down and fell into a tall woven basket crowded with next to a billion other contraptions and trinkets he'd been building when he wasn't sketching. Hiccup stood up with a sigh and dug around in the basket, accidentally knocking a piece loose from a strap tacked above his head. The piece happened to be the lizard sword that trader Johan had given him and it fell from its place toward Hiccup's back─ it wasn't sheathed.

Toothless, seeing the danger, grabbed Hiccup and pulled him away from the basket just in time to see the sword slice easily through the basket and spill a dozen more random contents about the floor. One of these things among the wreckage was the book of dragons that Hiccup had also gotten from Johan. The sword stuck out of the ground, through the basket's bottom, the hilt tilted toward them.

Toothless's eyes immediately landed on the sword's intricate hilt and switched between that and the book. " _Esyrado!_ " Toothless gasped as his fists crossed his chest and he bowed reverently, muttering Esyrani prayers under his breath. Hiccup was forgotten as he fell to the floor from Toothless's grasp.

Hiccup rubbed his backside and eyed the boy curiously. "Toothless?"

Toothless stood up straight and turned to Hiccup. "How did you find the Book of _Esyrado?_ " The voice in Hiccup's head echoed the same question, layering onto Toothless's urgency.

Hiccup had never heard that Esyrani word before, but he knew what the boy was pointing at. "Dragons? The Book of Dragons?"

" _Dragons_ , yes, dragons!" Toothless ran a hand through the top of his head and down his braid nervously. "The Esyrani are _people of the dragons_. They are our spirits, our ancestors─ no─ our... uh, our _traethinr_. Counterpart, right? Anyway, that─ _that_ is our book! And that _scimitar!_ " Hiccup was surprised the boy recognized the type of sword that had just been about to stab him, but the voice in his head was constantly echoing Toothless's words and his head began to ache. "It has the _Esyrtaghn_ on it! How did you come across these?!"

Hiccup was trying to fathom this. Dragons had been extinct for years, far before his time. Probably even before his father's time. And there, right in front of him, this Esyrani was telling him he had something of old in his possession? Needless to say, Hiccup was more than a little dubious. His eyes went to the hilt as he studied it more intently. The grip was a deep cobalt from the cross guard all the way to the tip of the hilt. The tip was a lizard's─ well, a dragon's─ head, wide and mostly flat, but smooth and made of some black metal that Hiccup couldn't identify. From the back of its head protruded a mirrored set of two... ears? Then there were two large emeralds where the eyes would have been, accenting the dark hilt beautifully. Was it really a... "Wh─ what's an _Esyr_ ─ _taghn_?"

Toothless motioned for the Prince to sit down and he did so. "The _Esyrtaghn,_ " Toothless began slowly, still unused to the foreign language of Berk, "is the most deadly of dragons. It's said to be the dragon of the Esyrani King's family. They were the most feared dragons because they could not be seen unless they wanted to be seen, and they were _dangerous_. And scimitars," Toothless pointed to the sword, "are weapons of the... uh... higher-up Esyrani. They are made with steel forged by their family's dragon reaching back─ many─ hundreds of years. They can only be touched by those of worthy blood. Otherwise, they burn your hand to the point where you must drop it. And _you_ have the _Esyrtaghn scimitar_."

Hiccup stared blankly at the boy. He'd never seen Toothless so animated about anything before. He wished he could ask the Esyrani for more information or explanation, but he knew not to push it. Toothless hadn't had much of a history when he came to Central Berk. When Hiccup asked, Toothless only gave vague answers. He'd been aware of having a family and fighting for them during the Berkian Raid, but he'd been knocked unconscious and remembered little of events before being brought to Central Berk. It came to him in fleeting moments of small panic or sparks of inspiration, but nothing more. It was neither helpful nor insightful, so Hiccup learned to leave it alone. On the other hand, Hiccup's curiosity was piqued. He had a King's blade? And he was able to _hold_ it? "Could you hold the scimitar?"

Toothless's eyes widened. "Can you?"

Hiccup nodded and Toothless looked like he might go crazy. He stood up and walked over to where the sword rested. "Perhaps it is fake?" Toothless wondered as his hand reached out and grabbed the hilt. Immediately, his hand pulled away and he howled in pain, the voice in Hiccup's head returning full force and ringing with a ferocity he'd never heard or felt before.

"Toothless!" Hiccup sprung up and took the sword away from him so that it wouldn't hurt him, the hilt cool to the touch in his palm. "Toothless! Are you okay, bud?"

But Toothless was focusing on the scimitar in Hiccup's hand. He yelled something incoherent and began mumbling in fast Esyrani. "How─ _how_? You are able to hold the _Esyrtaghn_ ─ _HOW_?!" Then Toothless's Common Tongue slipped again and he was close to breaking down. The voice in Hiccup's head was buzzing around and powerful emotions were slinging his mind this way and that erratically. The panic attack, probably coupled with the frustrating lack of memories, was spreading from the Esyrani's mind into Hiccup's. It took a few minutes with the taxing influx of foreign thoughts, but Hiccup managed to stow the sword away and calm the boy down. They exited the claustrophobic room and walked through the hidden passage into Hiccup's sleeping quarters. It was an area that servants were not allowed to enter, but Toothless had always been the exception, being a personal servant.

Toothless lay on the bed, no longer caring that it was highly forbidden. The panic was taking a few moments to blow over, and he found it hard to relax. When he was able to calm down slightly, the Esyrani was sprawled out in an attempt to become comfortable. Hiccup lay across from him, straight as a pin with his hands gripping his head. The voice in Hiccup's mind kept muttering and bumbling and switching back and forth between confusion and excitement. Occasional phrases could be heard louder than the rest, but most of it was incoherent and it flustered Hiccup to the point where he couldn't think for himself. The outwardly silent room was an amphitheatre blasting the loudest performers and audiences and Hiccup was inwardly writhing with the attempt to shut it out. Sweat began to bead on his forehead and he was twisting his face in an effort to ignore it. But he couldn't take it anymore. There was a ripping sound at the forefront of his brain and he cried out in pain as his forehead felt like it was being split open by an axe.

 _Will you STOP THAT?!_ Hiccup yelled through his newly awakened mind's eye.

All was silent for a split second, and then Toothless burst into an improvised dance. _YOU DID IT! YOU DID IT YOU DID IT YOUDIDIT!_ Toothless began jumping up and down on the bed excitedly. "You did it! You did it! You did it!" Toothless landed with his head suspended over Hiccup's, staring with wild excitement in his verdant eyes. "You can use _milmya_ now! _Toaidiathi_ worked!"

 _What the hell is this? Why can't I talk anymore?_ Hiccup slapped a hand over his mouth. It wouldn't move of his own will. _What did you do to me?!_

"Relax, relax, Prince Hiccup!" Toothless's grin disappeared as he realized he'd never explained himself and he fumbled with his Common Tongue. "It takes some time to learn how to switch for an outsider, I guess. I didn't know it could be done with an outsider. It was an accident really. I'd forgotten our hands had blood on them."

 _What does that_ ─ "have to do with anything?" Hiccup gasped as his voice returned to normal without prior command. "What's _toaidiathi?_ "

Toothless muttered something about having to slip into his mind's eye to explain it correctly. _Well,_ toaidiathi _is an ancient Esyrani ritual used to join two people together. I_ ─ _I figured... since you saved my life... I owed you mine. With_ toaidiathi _I am responsible for your life. I meant to ask about it later on in my service, but that day was an accident. If two people think the same thought when joined in blood, the link connects. Now I feel, think, and sense everything that you do, and the same goes for you. I_ ─ _I'm sorry. It wasn't supposed to happen so soon. I didn't know it would go both ways, not at first._ "It was an accident, I swear!" Toothless got off of Hiccup's bed and was kneeling on the ground, not meeting the Prince's eyes. He'd been around long enough to know what the proper etiquette was for someone of his position. Bow and wait until told otherwise.

"No, no," Hiccup stood from the bed and hoisted Toothless up to stand, "there's no need for that. It─ It's fine. We'll be okay. I mean... we get along, right? It shouldn't be so bad. Maybe─ maybe it'll be useful... for when we finally leave this place."

The Prince rarely spoke about his hidden desires. And by rarely, he meant never. He never, ever, _ever_ dared talk about even the slightest hint of not wanting to be King of Berk, let alone not wanting to have anything to do with royalty. His father would disown him. On the other hand, that may not be the worst idea... but then Hiccup would be worse off than he would be if he stayed here, eternally unhappy and assuming roles he did not feel he could fill.

One day, the voice in his head─ Toothless's, as he knew now─ had somehow listened in on one of Hiccup's ponderings while he'd been in a political meeting with his father. Toothless had heard about how Hiccup wished to see more of the world. Now, after the incident with the sword and the book, Toothless knew that Hiccup wanted to see dragons as well. The Esyrani was more than eager to tell him all the stories he knew of dragons. With some help from the Book of Dragons, of course, as Toothless's memory wasn't the greatest. Still, it was a wonder that the boy could remember all of these intricate stories of bravery, selflessness, and love but he couldn't remember who his family had been. It didn't matter much, as Toothless had realized shortly after entering his service with Hiccup.

The Prince was his family now.

* * *

A few days after the King traveled to Western Berk on some sort of official business not fully disclosed, the uproar of recent events had died down and the palace was quiet once again. The stillness in the air was uncomfortable only by the fact that there was little else to do except breathe it in. To some, the quiet was disquieting. Strange how that worked. Off in the shadows cast by the eastern side of the palace during the sunset, a man stood with his arms crossed, talking in hushed tones.

But he wasn't some estranged fanatic talking to himself─ probably. Those were usually dealt with at the front gates of the palace, not within the courtyards and gardens. The man was talking to a shadowy apparition, an illusion. It was an ancient Arte that had been silenced during the uprising of the Berkian Peninsula, but the man knew how it worked all too well. The manipulating and twisting of colors, space, sight, and one's own mind was something he handled with practiced acuity. The shade was of a rather immense, imposing man with long, knotted hair. He had a permanent sneer on his face as he listened to the man's words, but this was no surprise. They communicated like this when it was not easier to meet in person, which was appropriate considering the shadow's physical likeness was currently standing on a ship just outside the Bear Island Fortress's view, miles and miles from Central Berk.

They had been working together for some time now. On one of the advisor's annual statistical report journeys to each of the major cities, he'd met many protesters and naysayers against the bourgeoisie. Most people were uncaring or ignorant of the state with the kingdom's economy, but plenty had an earful for him whenever he sat down in a bar. That was the case, until he got to Senja.

The city of Senja was the easternmost port city, and technically not on the mainland. The Shinju river─ a name left over from the native peoples before─ was split into several smaller rivers, only one of which gained its own name. The Swallow river deviated from the Shinju at Runde, the only populous inland city on the Peninsula, So if one followed the Shinju river instead past Runde, and kept the boat steered toward starboard side, they would end up right at Senja, where the land was separated by the last fork in the Shinju river.

The trip was easy, just following the river, but it was long and General Pitchiner did not particularly want to deal with insufferable townsfolk that had less teeth collectively than a newborn baby. So, perhaps when one particularly rowdy person was getting too close to his face, he may or may not have slipped a black cloud into the man's drink. The next swig and the idiot's eyes had bugged twice their size, choking on their wildest fear as the beer dribbled down their fat chin. Pitchiner wasn't bothered with after that.

One man had seen the interaction. He motioned Pitchiner over to his dark table in the corner. Intrigued and partially on edge, he took up the stranger's offer. It was a little later when they were deep in drink and conversation. The stranger's name was Drago, and Drago did not disclose last names. His stature was hunched and massive, scarred and pallid. Face long and withered, the man was dangerously cautious. But at the mention of Pitchiner's name, he raised a brow.

"So you _have_ met the Demon..." he whispered low, a grin curling at the side of his lips.

"E─excuse me?" Pitchiner backpedaled. He had expected the stranger to know his connection to the throne, but this was unexpected.

"The Great Demon Fovos," Drago leaned back, seemingly at ease despite the subject matter, "the Reaper of the Earthen Seas."

Then his grin widened and he slammed his fists on the table. Several people turned their heads, but soon lost interest. "You're Captain Pitch Black, the Nightmare Mage. I've heard a lot about you. Only five years at sea and you stole command from the Demon Himself!"

Pitchiner's eyes darted around the far side of the bar, anywhere but at the man. "I didn't know rumors stretched so far," he muttered to no one in particular.

But Drago had a different reason for believing those rumors. "Have you heard of the Ancient Key?"

Pitchiner shook his head imperceptibly, aware now of the atmosphere at the table despite his drunkenness.

"Well, how would a mage feel in becoming a king?"

And that brought them to this point, approximately ten years later, plotting the downfall of the royal family just outside the palace walls. Drago's apparition was an amalgamation of Pitchiner's Black Artes and Drago's own practices. Made of small swirls of black smoke and smog, it vaguely resembled his shape. Even to get this much detail, Pitchiner was struggling. Distance was a very real problem, with or without magic. Words came through in bits and pieces, low and high pitches mixing like a broken radio in unpleasant cacophony.

"So, the plan is set?" The illusion shifted unsteadily with the effort it took to speak.

"The day after the King's return," the man uncrossed his arms and opened his eyes. They were a dull yellow that gleamed despite the lack of light.

"I'll be ready," was the abrupt response. The shadows dissipated.

* * *

 _Translation Notes:_

 _Traethinr_ [TRAY-eh-theen-r*] is a word in Esyrani that has no clear English translation. Toothless uses _counterpart_ as a synonym for the word, but it is closer to "those of entwined fate" in which everything is shared. Toothless, afflicted with amnesia, is having a hard time remembering these exact details, however.

 _Esyrado_ [eh-SEER-ah-doh] in Esyrani is both an entity and a physical being. It is the spirit of the dragons in Esyrani lore but it is also the dragons themselves. They are revered creatures thought to have unimaginable intelligence.

 _Esyrtaghn_ [eh-seer-TAHG-hhh**n] is Esyrani for a canon dragon species that shall not be named in the story yet.

 _Milmya_ [MEEL-m-yawh] is made from the Greek words for "mind-speaking"

 _Toaidiathi_ [TOwa-EE-dee-ah-thee] is made from the Greek words for "blood of the covenant"; this is a sacred ritual that will be expounded upon later in the story

*The _r_ sound in Esyrani sounds like _ear_ in English, but shortened.

**The _h_ sound in Esyrani is not a sound in the English language. It is close to the German pronunciation of _ch_ as in "Buch" but without the harsh _c_. It sounds more like a heavy, breathy exhale.

* * *

 **A/N:** **Sorry that this chapter's a day late, I got unexpectedly busy yesterday. However, the next chapter will still come out on schedule, so only a two-day wait this time! :D**

 **Please do enjoy! :)**


	5. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4 - Brother of Water, Part II_

* * *

"Storm!"

The yell came from further into the town. Jack woke up briefly, eyes struggling to flutter. He squinted out the window and saw nothing but water pouring down the glass. It was raining hard, but that wasn't anything new this close to winter. A yawn, a turn, and a tucking of the sheets, he fell back asleep.

"ALL TO THE BOATS!"

That was heard sometime later, Jack couldn't have been sure how long. This time he sat up and rubbed his eyes, realizing that his sleeve was wet. And it was still dark out. He was about to nudge his sister beside him to wake her up, but that was when he saw she was no longer in the bed. Jack tried to peer further out, but his eyes halted and widened at the scene before him. The inside of the house had already flooded up to the bed's height, nearly two feet above the ground. And their house was _higher_ than the rest of the town. That is, their house rested on a hill just above the rest of the town, separated by a twisted path through a slow incline in the woods. The lake itself resided much higher than their house, and would most likely be unfazed by this current flood. But surely it hadn't rained that much in one night...

"GATHER AT THE LAKE!"

The second shout panicked him. He searched for his boots. Not seeing them in the murky waters, he stood up and began to feel the water under his feet that was seeping into the mattress. He gave up and jumped into the frigid waters, wading throughout the house. "Mom? Emma?"

Not hearing a response, Jack tried again, louder. "Mom! Emma!" But the rain outside was loud against the window panes and it made everything harder to hear except for the waves of water that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere. " _Mom! Emma!_ "

"In here!"

Jack heard the weak response coming from his mother's room and he struggled to run through the mess that the water had made of the house. Something slipped past his feet and he wondered if fish had been carried up this far. A window that was lower and closer to the village's direction was broken and water was pouring in through the cracks. Shards of glass floated around him, so he attempted to be careful as he made his way to the bedroom and rammed the door several times. It hardly budged until someone from the other side pulled at the same time that he pushed. More water flooded into the small room and Jack heard Emma's garbled screams and his mother's cries. They had been standing atop the dresser as the water cascaded in─ Emma must have climbed into their mother's bed at some point during the night because she hated rain─ and she had helped him open the door.

"We have to go!" Jack yelled above the rushing of the water that pounded in everyone's ears.

Emma's arms grabbed his as she tried to float above the water─ it was now reaching Jack's waist and the bottom of her chest. "Jack! I'm scared!"

Before Jack could placate his sister, their mother swam up to them with great effort and urged them onward. They made their way around the house by grabbing onto more stable furniture and doorways while random household objects floated and were tossed around them by the agitated waves. He tried to ask how this had happened, but all that his mother could offer was that there might have been a small earthquake that caused a single giant wave and that perhaps there were more to crash through─ a tsunami. It was common for floods and earthquakes to occur in this region, so this was knowledge known to most villagers. But the fact that the earthquake was enough to cause _this_ kind of flooding was something novel. The additional rain didn't alleviate the situation, either. The older teenager had a hard time wrapping his head around the sheer coincidences playing out around him. His stomach fell at the very real possibility, but he pushed the feeling away. He had to get his family to safety. They were close to the lake and Jack knew enough from working there how to secure a boat and a lifeline, since there was little chance that the flood waters could reach the lake in any case. Even if it did… no. They could make it. They would get on a boat and ride this out. And the aftermath would be dealt with altogether at a later time. What mattered now was that they get out of the house. It had no use for them anymore. It hadn't for a long time.

Jack noticed that his staff was floating close by and he grabbed for it, shocked to find that the crook had broken off. It was his favorite piece that he'd whittled himself. But he could be angry over that later. He held Emma's hand in his left and his staff in his right, knowing that Emma's other hand was holding their mother's. Once they made it to the front door, Jack pushed them back as he pulled on the door handle. It was easier to pull this door because the water wanted to _come in_ rather than _leave_ and an impossible amount of water piled into the house's central room and the water level was already making it more difficult to walk along the ground. Still, Jack refused to let his hands slip. He was able to guide them out the door, where the forest had become little more than short trees jutting out of a vast muddy expanse that never ceased to stand still. The sight was disheartening, but Jack wouldn't let it show.

He turned to Emma and his mother. "We're gonna be alright. We're not going to get dragged in, okay?"

When they nodded, Jack turned and half walked and half swam onward until Burgess Lake came into view, named after the town's founder's son unlike the town itself named after the founder. It was yet untainted by the sea because the lake rested atop a small plateau that stood a little higher than the town. But it wouldn't be long before it was covered as well. Jack could see a few of the townspeople─ far too few for how far along the storm was─ and his heart allowed him to push onward. Then the water became too deep just before they could begin the climb up the hill toward land and they were forced to swim out. But the current was too strong and Emma's hand slipped.

"MOM!" he heard Emma cry out and he turned around, holding onto a tree's branch so that he wouldn't be swept away as well, and saw the fingers of his mother's hand disappearing into the muddy depths.

"NO!" Jack yelled when he felt Emma's hand try to wring itself away from his grasp. "You can't go after her!"

Emma stared at Jack in absolute horror, the truth of the immediate situation dawning on her fearfully. "No... _no_! _MOOOOOMMMMM_!" She yelled back to where they'd last seen her and tears mixed with raindrops fell down her face, hair plastered to her cheeks. Jack could feel her entire body shaking with cold and fear and grief and he wanted desperately to calm her down.

He pulled her close and whispered as best he could with water trying to rush into his mouth. "We're still gonna be fine, Emma. We have to be. You have to believe in me!"

Emma's eyes refused to leave his, lost in despair. Then something sparked in those horror-struck eyes. She nodded and joined him in swimming until they reached the side of the bank and scrambled up to the only piece of land still intact. They let go and collapsed in the mud then and there, catching their breaths and Emma sobbing uncontrollably. Jack winced as he used his staff to push himself to his feet. His legs were weak from swimming─ more like struggling to walk and not get swept away by the current─ but he couldn't give up. The boats were right here. Several boats already had people screaming at them and ushering them over, but Jack couldn't hear them. The winds were too strong. He could feel the ocarina pounding against his chest with every puff of wind, incredulous about the fact that it hadn't been lost or broken yet. That shifted his attention the millions of debris─ some flotsam and jetsam large enough to fit a human─ floating around already and the giant wave just beyond the shore. He didn't have much longer.

Bringing his attention to Emma, he stood her up and cupped her face in his hands. "Do you wanna play a game? We'll play hopscotch! Like we play every day!"

Emma glared at him incredulously, but when Jack started to move toward the water, she grabbed at his sleeve and hauled him back, scared that he might leave her.

"It's okay, it's okay. Everything's going to be fine," Jack gently pushed her hand away as he placated her. "We're going to have some fun. It's as easy as one─" Jack jumped onto the nearest piece of floating junk and wobbled around a bit before finding his balance, "─two─" Jack jumped again, doing the same thing with a little more difficulty. His legs would give way soon if the driftwood didn't first. "Come on! Catch up! You don't want me to win, do you?"

Emma gasped and shook her head, inching her way toward the shore. Behind her, the monstrous wave was mere seconds away from swallowing them. She jumped like he had, but had a harder time finding her balance. Jack jumped to a third one and slipped, outside of her vision, but remained upright as she made it to the second one, following his path. Jack ironically prayed to Selina that this stupid plan would work─ it was all that he had. Emma jumped before he was ready, however, and he only had enough time to take her weight and transfer it away from him and toward the nearest boat. Just before he fell into the water, he saw the people in the boat grabbing his sister and pulling her into safety. Jack smiled until he saw her turn around, face drawn in a static cry for her brother. And that was when his fall plunged him completely under the surface. She screamed out to him, but he couldn't hear what she said, and the wave came crashing down onto the lake.

Jack couldn't see his hands in front of him in this water. The salt stung his eyes and the murky mixture of sea and land tossed dirt and unidentifiable objects at his face, limbs, and core. His body was tossed around so much that he couldn't tell up from down, left from right, and his breath wasn't going to hold out. The wave had caught up to him before he could properly draw in oxygen and his lungs were screaming for air in the midst of the watery turmoil. He only knew where his staff was─ in his hands─ and he held onto that for dear life, because there wasn't much left of it. But his sister was safe. He would meet his mother soon, perhaps, and his sister was safe. With that last thought, his head was thrown by a current into something hard and his breath escaped and water filled his mouth and throat and lungs and he felt his entire being become water and the world slowly went black.

And then the world was bright again. The blinding light settled and Jack saw that he was in some sort of bubble, the flood waters splashing around him but not touching him. His eyes darted around in confusion and he held out his staff defensively. What was going on? Was he just dreaming? Was the flood part of the dream, too? Would he wake up in his bed soon...?

 _I'm sorry, dear, but those are all the wrong questions to be asking._

Jack spun around and fell backwards in shock. There was a tall, slender, pale woman with stark white hair that reached her waist and oceanic eyes looking down at him. She was clothed in a long white dress with ice blue trimmings and barefoot. It took a second for him to realize that she was holding out a hand to him. He remained guarded. "Wh-who are you?"

 _I am many names, I am none. Your people call me the Moon's Goddess._

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me..." Jack muttered under his breath as one hand left his staff and slapped his forehead. "That's it! I'm obviously dreaming."

 _You are not dreaming. You simply stopped believing. How strange it is; you asked your sister to believe in you when you could not believe in anything..._

He bared his teeth and stood up. "Look, I don't know what's going on, but unless I'm dead, I'm going to wake up now," he said condescendingly, aiming to pinch his skin or something. He wasn't actually sure if that trick worked _in_ a dream.

The woman merely raised an eyebrow and watched as Jack tried to find a way out of the underwater sphere. No usual method worked, as she knew they wouldn't, and Jack was left to face her once more. The distraught look was plain in his eyes as the truth registered in his waterlogged brain.

 _You are dead, my little one. I know you have many questions. Why have I not helped my people? Why have I not answered them for so long? But I cannot answer you now. I've had little time left and my power is failing_ ─

"How can a Goddess's power _fail_?!" Jack interrupted her.

 _We are not all powerful, not as you wish us to be. The gods and goddesses of many peoples share the same Skyward Sea, and therefore do not keep the same amount of power for each. A war Above has been raging, and I've held onto my dwindling resources for as long as I could, but I'm afraid I couldn't stop them._

"Stop... stop who?" Jack's voice broke, everything settling into his mind, shattering his consciousness. His mother was dead. He was dead. His sister was alive. There was no deity left for them to follow. She was in the same boat as them, figuratively, facing a threat she had no power against.

 _The Key is not safe anymore. But there is a way I can preserve it, if you choose to live._

And then Emma would have a brother and a higher being to believe in and they would survive and they would be alright. He didn't know what kind of key she was talking about, but his thoughts were focused elsewhere. How was Jack to refuse?

 _I understand your pain and willingness to do anything for your loved one... but this path will not be easy in the long run. The Key must stay with me, but I need a vessel to live in your world. Should you accept me into your heart, I will grant you life. But I cannot grant you a normal life. You will not understand yet, but the time will come._

Jack took a step back from the ethereal being in front of him and glanced around, searching again for an answer. Around him there were pieces of upturned boats and bricks from crushed houses and body parts swirling and flaying in the chaotic mess that was the tsunami. He looked up but saw nothing different from what was to the sides and below him. The occasional face─ dead and stuck in permanent horror─ made itself disgustingly clear as it was tossed mercilessly by the waves. Somewhere further in the depths, Jack swore he saw his mother's ragged body being defiled by nature's cruelty, scratched and torn and soggy and dead, dead, dead... He shook his head and found that he couldn't look anywhere without seeing death and destruction unless he looked at the goddess. Even then, she looked sickly and close to death herself. The nauseous feeling returned and Jack's knees buckled. "Why... why do you need to come here?"

 _There is something to be fulfilled._

"Fulfilled? What needs to be fulfilled?"

Instead of answering, the goddess stepped closer to the poor boy and laid her hand upon his forehead. It was extremely cold, and Jack felt like he was freezing over. Ice veiled his eyes and words like shards flowed through his veins, imprinting onto his very body and soul with cryptic words that rung in his ears.

 _Two royal and one divine  
_ _They gather and all make nine._

 _In five years' and five days' all,  
_ _With nightmares writhing in blood,  
_ _Leaving what's left to die in mud,  
_ _Fate! The vast expanse will fall._

 _One must choose another known  
_ _First for life's most precious fight  
_ _Pure as snow and black as night,  
_ _The dragon protects his own._

 _One royal and two divine  
_ _They gather the fall of nine._

When the words ceased and the ringing stopped, Jack opened his eyes to find that Selina was gone. There was nothing but the murky sphere that began to collapse around him. Water started to fill the bubble and Jack panicked. He knew it. He was dying. It had all been an illusion just before his death. A tricky illusion that tried to force him to repent against what he'd said about their town's deity just yesterday. His sister's words echoed in his mind: _If I pray that she won't smite you for that, will you still live?_ Her tearful face came into focus and Jack tried as the water filled up past his waist to remember her face differently. But it wouldn't leave and the words wouldn't subside. He just knew it. He was going to die the way his father died─ carried away by the forces of nature and fate. And Jack had never believed in fate. But now, as his entire body became ice cold and his eyes stung with tears made of frozen fractals, he couldn't help but feel that this wasn't the end.

That he had just become a pawn in someone else's game.

* * *

 **A/N: And the countdown commences...**

 **Have a good day/night! :)**


	6. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5 - The Will to Leave, Part I_

* * *

Now that a pair of angry blue eyes was fixated on Hiccup, the prince wished he had listened to his guardsman earlier that day about receiving his father from his trip.

In the early morning sunshine, the dew still refracting small rainbows above the lush green canvas that painted the palace grounds, Hiccup was sparring with a fellow guardsman, one of the best knights in the kingdom. They were not alone. Toothless, hiding from duty and protected from the guardsman ordering him around at present only because the prince was there to override anything the man said, lay in the grass, not caring that it was getting his servant's attire soaked with every passing second. Black plaited hair was twirled by his hand, circling around in the air nonchalantly, the shadows gliding over his face with each cycle. The groundskeeper, Gobber, was also looking on from a nearby patch of the gardens he was tending with awkwardly large-looking machinery. He occasionally commented on the prince's posture or articulation, but the latter could never figure out how he knew of such matters not normally discussed with anyone as low as the groundskeeper. But then again, there was always something strange about Gobber.

"Watch yer form, Hiccup!" He had stopped to pull at the side of his moustache. "Yew'll lose yer leg if ya keep tha' up!"

The prince flexed his grip on the rapier, crafted to his size and much lighter than the already dainty standard rapier. It was the only indication that he was annoyed by Gobber's advice. "Gee, I think that's for─" he dodged to the left and deflected another blow to the side, twirling his weapon to cause the guardsman to lose his grip, "─ Sir Ithel to decide." Said guardsman fell from his unused momentum after losing his sword. Hiccup knelt down respectfully and offered the older knight a hand─ his left.

"Your handedness provides excellent form, but I know little of lefties. I'm sure your form could still use some work," Ithel took the hand and stood, dusting the dirt of the gardens off of his armor, "on your right hand."

The prince rolled his eyes cockily. "I don't need to work on my right hand." Out in the periphery, Gobber shook his head and pinched his eyebrows together.

"Is that so? Switch stances and begin again," the guardsman corrected his footing and hunched forward, ready.

Only for a brief moment in Hiccup's mind did he think that he wasn't ready. The thought was pushed away as he readied himself in a way that mirrored his previous actions. Rapier in his right hand, still pointed correctly but wobbling imperceptibly, he lunged forward and the spar began all over again.

It was after his third time getting his backside beaten down to the grass, staining his green undertunic a slightly darker green in several places, that a second guardsman showed up. Hiccup never wore his princely clothes when sparring, his father would have his head otherwise, and the sparring clothing was too extravagant to practice efficiently. That was one of the things the young took to heart in almost everything he did: efficiency. Too bad the new guardsman in front of him seemed to care more about his appearance.

"Prince Hayden!" Silver armor was brought to a halt, rebounding a wave of sunlight directly into the prince's eye from the ground where he lay. The guardsman seemed to pay that detail no mind. "Your father, the King of Central Berk and the Berkian Peninsula, has returned from his trip to the sister city of Western Berk as of this hour. His Highness requests that you not receive him at the palace gates, but partake in a luncheon at the highest hour."

Hiccup blinked, not bothering to stand up because he knew that Ithel was keeping the rapier pointed at his back in a sense of triumph. His father wanted to eat _lunch_ together? Right after a big trip, his father normally either slept like a hibernating bear or went right back to business. It was probably because he struck some economic compromise with the barbaric western city and brought some overly-muscled, brazen, tasteless representative to seal the deal. People who defended not only the Berk Trifecta but the Berkian Peninsula at large for a livelihood did not stay sane. And his father wanted the Prince to at least _pretend_ to be interested in politics over a well-prepared mid-day meal. Fantastic.

"Well, gee, as interesting as that _sounds_ ," Hiccup grunted as he pushed himself off the ground and rolled away from an obvious attack on Ithel's behalf, "I think he would much rather have one of his advisors─ you know, one of the people in this palace that's actually good with international affairs─ handle this transaction. Don't you think?"

"But young Prince, this isn't─"

"Relax, I'll show up. You can go," the order was halfhearted. "Again, Sir Ithel!" He was in no mood to be talked down to by his guards. It was bad enough that a boy of sixteen years even needed them. He was fairly certain his raw vikingness─ for Berkains prided being descendants of the early vikings that settled the peninsula─ could speak for itself. In the back of his mind, of course, he felt to be the furthest thing in the world from a viking. Toothless was more of a viking than he was, and that thought was almost troubling.

 _You're a fine… viking…_ Toothless mused through their mental link. There were some days that Hiccup forgot the Esyrani could hear his every thought.

 _You can guard your thoughts, you know._ Toothless, the everwatchful, always-hearing pain in the─ _Ahem. But if you guard your thoughts as well as you guard against Sir Ithel right-handed, I'm afraid I'll be hearing you nonstop for the rest of my life._

 _Maybe that'll be your punishment for getting me into this mess,_ the prince retorted as he was struck again in the chestplate by Sir Ithel's unforeseen thrust. Hiccup lost again. But perhaps the next spar could start immediately. The grimace turned into a smirk and he spun clockwise, temporarily leaving his back exposed─ an ill-advised move─ while the guardsman's sword pushed forward due to the displacement in the prince's weight. As the rapier's momentum was spun around and Sir Ithel made to poke at his back, Hiccup's arms grasped his weapon and sent it over his head, blocking from behind. If he couldn't use his right hand properly, he'd use both.

"You can't use both hands on a rapier!" The knight cried out and lashed another cut, but was met by the small prince face-to-face, both rapiers poised at the other's waists. In the breadth of half a second, the young boy had somehow gotten too close for an attack Ithel was sure the prince couldn't have seen. Either way, it was a draw.

Green eyes narrowed and swords were pointed at the ground. "If I'm ever fighting, you can believe I won't be using these wimpy things!" Calloused hands, still covered in some charcoal from his artful ministrations the previous night, inspected the uselessly shiny metal threading out from an equally useless but intricate crossguard. It was a shame such a petty thing was so pretty, too.

"If you're ever fighting, the world's truly doomed!" Sir Ithel feigned the comic light-headedness of a fair maiden, swooning on weak knees, bringing the prince out of his thoughts.

"Say that again, Ithel?" Hiccup hopped back on the balls of his feet, already prepared for a strike.

"That's _Sir_ Ithel!"

They continued practicing, teaching, and practicing again until well after Gobber had taken care of the gardens twice over and Toothless had gotten talked into doing some meaningless chores about five times and returned each time. At some point, the boy's verdant eyes signaled to the prince that it was indeed well past noon. Hiccup ignored it and kept flicking his sword wrist with a determination set in his features.

Of course, once he actually showed up in one of the palace's elegant dining areas and was pinned against the wall by a furious blond-haired woman only slightly taller than himself, he regretted not listening. Her knuckles showed through the fistful of fabric she'd used to lift him off the ground.

"Where have you been?" She hissed as she let go of the prince's pressed blue─ and _very_ itchy─ waistcoat. It wasn't exactly his color, but it was the first thing he grabbed from his closet after realizing his father's imminent anger. He hadn't been expecting this unfamiliar girl's anger as well.

"Well?!" She continued in a hushed tone, patting down the ruffles on her indigo skirts and flattening the white petals underneath her leather corset. She sure didn't look comfortable, either. "Do you have an excuse for making a lady wait?"

"L-l-lady?" _You're hardly a lady_ ─

 _Hiccup, be nice!_ Toothless butted in, despite probably being on the complete opposite side of the palace.

 _I didn't say that out loud! Now back off, Toothless. I'll deal with you later._

 _I didn't do anything!_ Toothless whined indignantly.

The "lady" cleared her throat and tapped her foot impatiently, breaking his inward conversation.

"Son," King Stoick appeared from behind her, now within the prince's view, "this is Lady Astrid, the daughter of the Lord and Lady of Western Berk. It was arranged some years ago that you would be wed before taking the crown. I arranged today for your meeting before being fitted and united under the Skyward eye of Odin."

Wed? To her? To this girl who barely even looked his age and was already twice as strong as he would ever hope to be? Who he had made angry within seconds of meeting her?

Oh boy.

Hiccup messed this up big time.

* * *

Okay, maybe it wasn't too big of a mess up. He wasn't off to a great start, but he wasn't dead yet, either. And that counted for something, right?

After a late and unfortunately cold afternoon lunch, the prince was told to take his betrothed through the gardens that looked out over the Bay of Berk (yes, they named practically everything Berk; don't be fooled into thinking that these Berkians had any creativity aside from making ridiculous prices seem ordinary). Be romantic, his father had suggested. But trying to break past the slew of awkward glares thrown at him by the lady was difficult at best.

And yet, as they rounded a corner to a patch of blue and purple orchids, a flower the lady adored, she opened up to the prince. Astrid was forced into this, and while it meant she could take the throne, she said marriage had never been on her agenda. The only reason she ever wanted the throne was to change the way that the peninsula did their business. Originally, Hiccup thought she meant something more intricate by "business," assuming that she wanted to change some policy or perhaps change the currency exchanges or something else politically economic that the prince couldn't be bothered to learn properly. But the truth was something different.

"I hate the bourgeoisie and everything they stand for, Hayden!"

They had made it to the central fountain, a fine marbled structure with emerald accents acquired from some distant land, the prince was sure. What he wasn't sure of, however, was Astrid's outburst. Nevertheless, there were guardsmen around them and he knew that revealing such blasphemy would get her thrown in jail, regardless of being the prince's betrothed. He pulled her by the shoulders unceremoniously and clamped her mouth shut with a freckled hand, only to let go before one of the guardsmen saw the exchange because _that_ would also be reason enough for the prince to be reprimanded, touching a Lady so unceremoniously.

"P-please, call me Hiccup," the prince took a step back and tossed his eyes to some distant object, hoping she would listen. He doubted that she would; she seemed to be the most stubborn Lady he'd ever met. And not stubborn in the snobby, I-have-more-power-than-you way, more in the sheer strength and willpower he sensed from her. Which was admirable, but really not helpful in the situation.

But she noticed something: the prince had a spark in his eye when she'd spoken her heart. Despite this scrawny, obvious disgrace to the King's name, Astrid had to admit that there was a quality about this "Hiccup" that let her be frank. "You hate them, too, don't you?"

"Lady Astrid, _please…_ " he struggled to wipe the sweat from his palms and force some other conversation. When Astrid kept the skeptical look on her face in spite of his efforts, he threw his arms up and gave in. "Alright, alright. I think they're─ they're not─ the way they do things is─"

"Deplorable, degrading, depraved? Need I go on?" Astrid rose an eyebrow and was standing oddly close. Very close.

Hiccup sighed and glanced around. The fountain's streams were thin but wavered little, thin droplets rippling into the greater pool. The bottom of the fountain was decorated by a tempered glass mosaic that threw vivid splashes of color on the nearby trees and shrubbery. It was beautiful and calm and it might help him think if he could sit and admire everything. Knowing the Lady was waiting on him, he gestured for her to follow. "Would you like a seat, m'Lady?" he asked with a proffered hand.

Her eyebrows knit in confusion at first, but she decided to trust the prince she had met only just today. And would marry tomorrow. Suddenly, the prospect didn't seem so bad. It wasn't the best idea in the world, but perhaps it was bearable. He was way better than some bratty noble, that was for sure. The Lady sat in silence, sensing that Hiccup wanted to speak.

It took a moment, but he had gathered his courage. It was only once they were sitting so close that he could see the water's reflection filtered on her fair face, doubling the pallid blues that were her eyes, watching him so closely. A deep breath that could have easily been mistaken for a gasp escaped his lips. He didn't ordinarily find girls attractive. That was partially due to the fact the only women he saw were servants or visiting Ladies of the court, both of whom were years beyond him.

"I wish I could leave. I-I-I'm not fit to be a prince," he said at last, his insecurities laid in front of him so bluntly.

But Astrid didn't seem to miss a beat. "You're telling me! You look like a talking fishbone."

Hiccup glowered at her, but decided that she'd want it to be interpreted as a joke. "At least I'd be famous in the circus," he quipped at his own expense. There was a travelling circus that came from Runde, an inland city nestled between the wide fork in the Shinju river. In actuality, it was the closest city to Central Berk, not taking into account the Eastern or Western counterparts.

The girl laughed, and what a nasally sound that was! The prince was hardly one to talk, but at least the Lady's laughter didn't sound forced. Indeed, despite the unexpected sound, it ended light and airy and she had mirth in her eyes. Had she never had someone to talk to so freely? Once again, the prince could not protest because even he hadn't gained a friend that stuck around until Toothless, and that had only happened three months ago. He smiled reciprocally, not because it was required, but because he truly enjoyed her company. And that was essentially a first for him─ Toothless was annoying more often than not.

 _I heard that!_ _You like her, don't you?_ Hiccup could practically see the Esyrani's devious grin and waggling eyebrows. _That's great, isn't it? That you don't hate her? Marrying her would be awful otherwise._

 _Yeah, like I have a choice in the matter… but she's not bad._ He didn't want to mention that she was really the only girl that ever stood out to him, but he knew Toothless understood that about him. It wasn't that Hiccup was fickle, it was that he generally liked anyone that gave him a reason to like them. It didn't really matter to him. Toothless had picked on him at first, acting overly flirtatious, but he never implied any ill intent.

"I've never been past the Bay's defense lines," Astrid spoke up, shattering the prince's unheard conversation. "I'd really like to see what's out there. And I don't mean just the Esyran mainland, but _everything else_. There's gotta be so much more than stupid water! I won't be able to visit anything after tomorrow."

Hiccup couldn't be more ecstatic that she shared his hope for adventure. "There's always running away," he mentioned nonchalantly, testing the waters and trying to calm his quickening heart beat.

"Hiccup! We can't do that! What about Berk? The Peninsula? The _throne_? They─"

"─ can survive without us," the prince knew his heart wouldn't stop racing. The idea of being able to finally escape this oppressive atmosphere, traveling the world, and just being _free_ felt so uplifting that he was getting submerged by the excitement of it all. "We could do this, Astrid. You, me, Toothless, maybe even─"

"Toothless?" Astrid asked.

He blinked. Then it registered. "He's my─ my friend. I couldn't leave without him." Did he dare tell her that Toothless was his personal servant? Would she think him another noble incapable of taking care of himself? Or would she find him to be not in a right mind, having a servant as his closest friend? Well, she would find out sooner or later, whether they ran away or not. "He's an Esyrani. I acquired him a few months ago when my father came back from Anoi."

"You took a slave?!" Slaves were not uncommon on the Berkian Peninsula, but they were never called such, and hardly treated as such. They were slaves in the strict definition of the word, but aside from that, many were treated fairly and given adequate housing and supplies. Of course, the way that it appeared now, Toothless was an unfortunate slave harking back to the times of plantations and slave farming. Before Hiccup could correct her, she continued. "Never mind, I won't ask. But Hiccup, we can't just run away. You're the _prince_ of all of the Berkian Peninsula. And you don't have any siblings that could take the throne in your place!"

"You've seen my father, I don't think he's dying any time soon, neither by all-out war or age." There was a pang of regret when he thought about leaving his father to rule alone. His wife, Hiccup's mother, was taken from them when he was still nursing and he knew Stoick wouldn't take it well if his son disappeared, too. Then again, he constantly picked apart the prince's shortcomings, despite sounding like he was trying to help. Before the sadness decided for him, he shook his head. "He'll be fine," he said to assure himself more than anything, "and so will we. We can do this. It doesn't have to be right away, but we can figure it out. W-we can make a plan and we'll get off this peninsula and we'll sail around the world, mapping everything! And─ and if we want to come back here, settle down, we will. What do you say?"

Astrid's face was blushing. Not mildly, either. It was strange, she looked so girlish in this moment but she still retained her intimidating posture, although even that was fading.

"Someday," she promised.

Someday came all too soon.

* * *

 **A/N: Apparently I still haven't gotten rid of the habit of ending every chapter with some sort of cliffhanger. Woopsies.**

 **I've been adulting so much the past week that I needed a break. So this is a teensy-tiny bit late, but hey new chapter! More writing! Yay!**


	7. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6 - The Will to Stay, Part I_

* * *

Darkness was the first thing he remembered. It was dark, and it was cold. Lungs no longer struggled to constrict or inflate. A distant warble resounded with the absence of scenery. Numb limbs brushed nothing except occasional destruction and pockets of… more absence. Soaked fabric wavered against his pallid skin, leaving little ripples of… absence. Eyelids flickered, winced, fluttered, squinted, and eased open. Aquamarine eyes widened without fully comprehending the surrounding… absence. He opened his mouth, attempting to find air and, after a moment's recognition, water. But there was only absence. No air flew into his mouth, his nose, his lungs. No water confiscated his right to breathe by filling up his airways. The only sensation was that he was floating. That it was dark. And that it was cold. Very, very cold. But strangely, the frigid atmosphere did not make him _feel_ cold.

He _did_ feel afraid, though. Afraid that this absence was all that he would ever know. Afraid that he would never reach the surface. Afraid that he would never breath, never understand, never escape. Afraid that he had already been dragged to the Under Seas, where the devils and wayward gods of the Skyward Seas sent petty human lives no longer apt for the Earthen Seas.

Afraid that he would never see his sister again.

The thought drove his body to react, pushing against the thick, nearly glacial environment he seemed to be trapped under. It was strange. He remembered living in an area more to the south, where snow still fell when the seasons rolled around, but not near the time he fell into the lake. Why was this so cold? Why─

An ethereal hand pulled at his chest, shoving him up, up, up, until his body slammed into something much harder and colder. There were cracks, haphazardly spreading in tiny fractals until he burst through and light filtered back into his being.

A circular object─ the Moon, he thought─ showered him in cool and gentle caresses as he was lifted above the crest of absence. The moon was so big and so bright, the darkness retreated away from his vision and he could see again. Everything had meaning again─ values and shades and shapes and colors everywhere─ and the absence had abated. He wasn't scared anymore. Even once his frozen feet touched the ground and he was standing on his own as gravity played with him at full force, causing him to slip and slide before becoming steady, he wasn't scared.

 _Jack…_

He turned around, wondering where the sound came from. Curious, his ears seemed to have never heard anything before now. But his eyes saw something new every second. Wandering aimlessly, he came across a rock in the middle of what looked like a pond, one he had never seen in his life. Hiding among the speckled grays, a simple skeleton key gleamed dully in the moonlight. He picked it up, and a small chain followed the key. The thing was rusted, bent, and overall plain. There were no intricate patterns, save the single groove in the stop and bit. Was this the key that Selina mentioned? He didn't think it would be so literal. Clasping the newfound jewelry around his neck, he heard the voice again.

 _Jack…_

"Hello?" his voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. New ears, new eyes, a new voice, too? "Hello?" It still didn't get better, as if his lungs had been punctured by some debris hours past.

 _Jack…_

"What is it?" weariness settled deep into his bones until he looked up. The moon… was it smiling benevolently at him?

 _Remember… remember…_

"R-remember? Remember what?" He had to know.

 _Back… Jack… your back… Jack…_

"What?"

 _Jack…!_

"What!"

 _Jack… Jack…! JACK!_

"JACK!"

The tortured scream shattered his vision into a million pieces and his entire body jolted with electricity. He shot upward, only to find that there were a thousand other voices and faces crowding him and he was breaking into a sweat. Any facial expressions were a blur and too close for comfort. His hands flew over his head and locked defensively in place.

"Jack! Jack! You're back! You're okay!" A special voice broke through the slew of people and arms wrapped around his waist, pushing him back down to the ground. For a second, he was afraid that it was ice and that they would break through, but they didn't. Looking at the ground, however, it did seem to have a certain… gleam to it. But he shook his head and it was gone. No one else seemed to notice. When he saw who embraced him, all breath escaped his upturned lips.

"Emma," his arms reciprocated the hug and he held on tightly. "Emma… oh, thank Selina, you're alive."

Her eyebrows knit together and she made a bitter laugh. "I'm the one who should be saying that. I thought when you went under you were─ you were─ you should have drowned─"

That was when Jack saw the tears stream down her cheeks. "Hey, hey, hey! What are you crying for? I'm alive, right? Selina saved me." And this time he believed his own words. He felt the coldness of the dream still coursing through his veins and the moonlight seemed to forever grace his pale features. Strange, he didn't remember being this pale. Perhaps it was being under the water for so long that his blood failed to circulate well.

That was when he realized that he wasn't breathing. He took a deep breath and tasted the air around him. It was cold. And unnecessary. His lungs felt like chilled glass, useless and filled with cracks. The key lay heavy on his chest underneath his shirt.

Emma still had an odd look on her face. "I thought you didn't believe in Selina… You told me yourself, before…"

Jack put his face in her palms only to find that she shrank away, not because she held his disbelief against him, but because his fingers were icicles. The kinds that grew over the side of their roof in the winter that they would break off and suck on when the water in the well was frozen over. He tried again with an apology. "Hey, now. I'll tell you everything, okay? Let's just go home for now."

"Jack," her tears returned, "there is no home. The flood took everything. All of Burgeon is underwater."

He turned around and stared past the small crowd around them. The ocean spread further inland than it used to, swallowing all but the tallest church steeple, barely peeking out over the expanse of watery plague. Anger bubbled in his gut, but not the burning hot kind of anger. It was the kind of anger that closed off emotion behind a glacier of hatred. Since they were young, kids in Burgeon learned that the moon was the cause for the waves in the oceans. Well, they had always said that it was Selina as the moon that moved the waves, but Jack had preferred to choose otherwise. Why would she do this to her people? More importantly, why did she have to do that to grab his attention? Their meeting in the air bubble deep under the lake came to surface of his consciousness, and his fists clenched. No questions were answered, and what was he now? Emma was right, he should have drowned.

Why did Selina allow him to live again? As her vessel, no less? Jack knew now that she existed, but that didn't change the resentment icing over his still heart. There was no beating sensation in his chest. But if there were, he would surely be having a heart attack right now.

Then a thought struck him. She'd said he would be different. Was "biologically dead" what she meant? He certainly felt like a ghost.

It was soon after, when the crowd dispersed and began collecting what they could into wagons that had escaped too much damage and gathered donkeys that ran loose after the storm, that his sister recounted what happened. The storm had tossed their boat this way and that, and several other boats had crashed into each other when waves collided, but most of them made it out. When things had calmed down, they brought in the boats and burned the trees from farther woods for warmth until they could piece together a plan. They were going to travel through the mountains in the hopes of reaching the caravan and go with them to Synerthos for refuge. It was a far trip, but what choice did they have now? Food was a joke and nearly all possessions were gone. Clothing was wet and cold and in need of patching. It made sense, but it was still a terrible idea. Traveling through those mountains meant them walking willingly to their execution.

But what shocked Jack more was his appearance. Emma showed him a shard of a mirror that had been scrapped and he doubled backward when the bluest of eyes stared at him underneath white fringe. His head was covered in visible wind, white as a snowstorm on a brisk winter morning. The colors of the deep ocean reflected in his irises a primal fear that he was not himself. How had Emma been able to tell he was her brother?

"I just had a feeling," she had guessed, "I'd know my brother anywhere!"

It was a good thing, too. Half the survivors wanted to burn him on the spot. Nobody should have lived after being pulled under the water for hours. On the other hand, burning him might not have been a bad idea. Jack wanted to feel warm again.

Their makeshift troupe left the next morning, with Jack and Emma trailing behind. Others had offered Emma space on the wagons because children─ especially girls─ shouldn't have to walk for too long. Chivalry or something or other. But she refused. If her brother couldn't, she wouldn't.

It didn't surprise him that the villagers didn't trust him much. They were right. He should have died. He should not have blue eyes. And he _most definitely_ _should NOT_ have white hair. Those with unnaturally white hair not due to old age were said to have been cursed. But Emma insisted on his company. And since she was one of the few children that survived, no one tried to argue past a few choice words pointed in his direction. Children were precious things now, seeing as many of the survivors may not be able to bear children due to their age. The one good thing about him being there was that he didn't seem to eat much of their already dwindling supplies. And the reason for that was simple: he didn't need to eat anymore.

It was unsettling, how little humanity he felt inside himself.

A week into the mountains passed before they stumbled upon the caravan─ much to everyone's surprise. Space and commodities were settled after an hour's discussion following the terrifying description of what befell Burgeon. The foreigners from Synerthos spoke Common Tongue, which was per usual in the Western cities since the Berkian Empire had taken over many of the trade routes. Burgeon had been one of the few places left that hadn't been too exposed to the influence, but it reached them in bits and pieces. They were taught Common in school, but Jack never found it useful until now. It wasn't much different from how they spoke in Burgeon, but it was enough so that it needed careful attenuation. He learned quick, thankfully, but the accent was difficult. At least he wouldn't have to speak it until they got to the city.

Several of the caravan members stared at him unabashed. He knew he was a sight, a concern for safety. He stayed close to his sister and spoke in hushed, Burgeon tones. The strangers inquired about the porcelain boy talking to the younger girl. Few answers were given, and the goods dealer mentioned something about requiring attention of the city's leader. Jack glared their way. If they thought him a threat, they certainly thought so then. His eyes were a dark cave fringed with ice, swallowing them with chills that ran up their spines. Out of the corner of his vision, frost glittered along the wagon's lip that he'd been resting his hands upon. Retracting his hand, he wondered if Emma saw.

As if she had, she ran around the side of the wagon and he heard the rummaging noises of various materials being shoved around. A moment later and she returned with two familiar parcels. His father's ocarina, surprisingly unscathed, and his shepherd's crook─ with the crook part broken off but sanded down to look like a regular staff─ were cradled in her arms and her fingers drummed nervously against the wood.

"I found the ocarina in the water, but it still plays fine. And I fixed the staff for you once we found you alive. I wanted it to be a present once things got better, but I think you need it. Here," she held both items out at arm's length, semi-proud of her handiwork.

Jack took the ocarina and strung it around his neck, thankful that the invisible weight of the key would feel more natural now. He picked up the staff and marvelled at the smoother surface, the grooves wavering around in gentle, static swirls. The top was rounded off in a smooth curve. As he was about to say thanks, his fingertips touched the wood and bright flashes cascaded down the wood and frost exploded onto the ground around them. The incident was quiet, the only sound a faint crackle as the effect spread a short distance. Jack and Emma stared at each other in horror and decided it was a secret best kept between the two of them.

But the thing about secrets is that, sometimes, they don't stay hidden.

It was another month of traveling before the overpopulated caravan finished its trek through the Kidemonas mountains. As early into winter as it was, it had been deplorable, the winds sharp and the temperatures unforgivable. Several of the older Burgeon survivors didn't last the first two weeks. A lot of food froze beyond being edible; if they were to be cut or thawed, the contents would simply be void of the nutrients they once had. Clothing was thin and the wagons provided little shelter─ provided they hadn't slid on the ice and crashed at the bottom of one of many high peaks. As little as the weather bothered Jack, he was upset that he couldn't keep his sister warm. He had given her his vest, and however brittle the worn leather had become, she was thankful and kept by his side. But he knew it was barely enough. He should have done better than that.

But when they arrived at the outskirts of the city, just about to roll down the last of the smaller hills, he knew they would make it. The city had older buildings like Burgeon, but many were mixed with modern steel and polished wood. Between every few buildings, birch, fir and evergreen trees dotted the land. Flat roofs contained gardens of greens and oranges, reds and purples, visible even from this distance. See-through tarps created thin, low ceilings above the gardens, protecting the goods from the snow. None of the buildings were that tall, but multiple stories were common. The stores looked homey and the homes looked like the havens of the Skyward Seas. Orchestral music from shops' radios flew about the busy streets, the bass bouncing off walls with a soft reverb that stretched for miles and the strings floated to the tops of the trees, fleeting but purposeful among the yule log fire smoke that curled into the air from most of the houses. Unlike campfires, these fires burned light and pleasant, wafting through the chilled air.

The sea painted the city's background, spotted with ice where salt was lacking. The late afternoon sun had yet to touch the horizon, but its light splattered the small waves, creating a glitter that shone in between the crevices created by the buildings. The docks were eternally busy, the sounds of sailors and heavy merchandise and the creaking of ships faint from this far away.

But the town couldn't be enjoyed, spare whatever streets they walked through on the way to what was easily the largest house in the whole city. This one was set slightly apart, connected only by a bridge wide enough for a wagon and a half, no more. The house itself was more of a dome, short and squat, with several towers and oddly-placed windows of all sizes. A gigantic weather vane─ or maybe it was a radio antenna─ pointed upward from the very top of the dome, central to the dome despite the asymmetrical towers and windows.

The caravan had dropped the Burgeon folk at the start of the bridge, where they were received by two shorter men. They weren't much for words, but their smiles were easily achieved as they pranced across the bridge, leading a little over thirty less-than-happy, now homeless individuals. As one could imagine, prancing was mildly inconceivable for the bunch. Once across, the men each grabbed a brass knocker the size of their entire bodies and pulled the doors open, blasts of warm air greeting their red cheeks and ear tips.

A older man with shaggy, graying hair greeted them in a tongue no one could quite understand. Jack thought he heard some Esyrani mixed with Burgeon, but dismissed the former due to the man looking nothing like the usual Esyrani. On the other hand, he couldn't be sure that the man wasn't Esyrani. He'd only ever seen a handful in his life due to the odd Esyrani trade ships occasionally docking at Burgeon when he was little. They had all been heavily tanned at the lightest, and the man in front of them was moderately tanned if not a little ashen. When no one answered him, he waved the group inside.

Jack tightened his grip on Emma's hand, which he'd been holding since they began crossing the bridge (Emma was _definitely_ the one with a terrifying fear of heights). They were in the middle of the small sea of people flooding into the calming, cinnamon-scented lobby when the greeter's large hand clapped against Jack's chest, halting his progress. Emma's hand pulled at his, but she was forced inside by the crowd. He yelled to her to wait for him because _who was this guy_ to stop a young refugee from entering the first appropriate shelter he had seen in a month?

About to freeze the man in his spot, either with his staff or his hands, he stopped gathering frost when he realized he was being eyed carefully. Jack let the small amount of frost that he had already conjured drift away from his fingertips. The ice accidentally coated the man's shirt despite Jack's care. The aging man's winter green gaze wasn't accusatory or even suspicious. There was curiosity, confusion, and some sort of conclusion reached after a bit of consideration. He nodded and pushed the boy inside before warbling orders to the bridge watchers and closing the doors.

Jack's head was still facing the doors when he felt Emma's hand tap on his shoulder. Turning to her, he saw that she was holding a bowl of hot soup in each hand and had proffered him one. Whispering thanks, not yet ready to tell her that he simply did not need to eat, they walked to a corner where fewer people were sitting and slurped the broth together. Perhaps he felt some semblance of warmth again, but it was fleeting. He kept his staff within arm's reach.

Most of the villagers were huddled by a wide, recessed fireplace on the other side of the room. Giant log beams shot up into the rafters, crafted in excruciating detail at the bottom, turning into more robust, block-like constructions toward the peak of the dome. Jack had to admit: the place was huge. The floor opened up to a space of balconies and railings that traversed the outer rims of the dome, some leading to staircases that wound down the center of the dome to lower levels with similar woodwork and hallways. It was likely that the majority of this place was underground. How on the Earthen Seas could something like this have been constructed?

After an hour of waiting─ although the effect was lessened by the fire and food─ a voice could be heard booming behind a set of closed doors off to the side of the balcony.

"What? ─could have told me! How long? ─ I know, I know─! Am very busy this time of year! ─yes…"

The doors opened and a rather large man wearing black slacks with a belt nearly half the size of his belly─ and _that_ was a feat in itself, considering the size of this man's stomach─ and a red collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up strolled into the room, a joyous smile spread on his face. Stark white hair reached his shoulders and his equally white beard reached far lower. His eyes seemed to meet each person individually, exuding the same sort of unprecedented but pleasant informality. When his gaze met Jack's, the boy saw his own icy blues staring back at him. It was unsettling, to say the least.

"Welcome, welcome!" His accent was foreign and thick, but the Common Tongue was unmistakeable. It wasn't his only language, that was for sure. "I am Sir North, governor of Synerthos. I have made preparations. But please─ eat up! Must be cold, no? No worries, dinner is to be served soon! Make selves comfortable, Phil and others will hand out blankets. Living spaces will be discussed after we all feel better in our bellies!"

Phil, as it turned out, was the man that greeted them. Sir North had walked up to him and began talking quietly before mingling among the villagers, offering words of encouragement and comfort. Jack's eyes never left the governor's figure, and it took Phil several tries of shoving the thick wool in the boy's face before he finally grabbed the blanket from him. Murmuring apologies, Jack spread it across his and Emma's laps, making sure to give the majority of it to her without her noticing.

"Jack," the governor was suddenly in front of him, "come with me," he said in a tone so low no one else had heard it.

"How─ how do you know my name?" The soup was starting to not settle well. Emma instinctively gripped his forearm.

"Word gets 'round," he explained shortly, "just follow me."

But Jack had one condition: "My sister comes with me."

The man glanced in Emma's direction and nodded. "Fine, fine."

They got up and stepped in line behind the only man with big, polished black boots that somehow padded softly through the lobby to the doors at the side. Several wary glares didn't escape Jack's attention and he tried to stand taller despite them for Emma's sake. Once the doors closed behind them, his shoulders relaxed, although the grip on his staff was still tight. They were brought down a staircase and across the expanse of the open balconies, into a much smaller room with tools and materials of all kinds strewn about in a haphazard fashion. No wonder the governor was late in meeting the people of Burgeon. Jack wouldn't have been surprised if the man got lost in all of this junk.

"Fruit cake?" The man suggested, holding out a silver platter of a cake that looked more like stale bread with bits of color. Even though they had been starved for a month, even this hadn't looked appetizing.

Jack and Emma looked at each other and back to him. "Um, no. Thanks," they muttered in unison.

The governor tossed the plate unceremoniously, metal crashing somewhere in the distant corner of the room, while his eyes stayed on them. "Charming. Are you twins?"

Emma stifled a chortle and Jack thrust the staff into her hands, hushing her. "Emma's my younger sister. Our parents are no longer with us."

"And so you care for her," he did not say it as a question.

"Yes, Sir Nor─"

He held his hand up for silence. "'North' is fine, son."

Jack and Emma dipped their heads. "North," they repeated.

But as their heads came back up Jack was backed into a corner by North as his steps advanced. His heels tapped the bottom of the door and his palms flew behind him, making sure he didn't fall. Emma retreated a few steps, warily watching what interaction was going to take place, staff slightly pointed in the man's direction.

"Who _are_ you, Jack Frost?" A calloused finger jabbed at his chest.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! 'Frost'? Where did that name come from?"

"I am one asking questions!" But North leaned backward and patted his shirt down, clearing his throat. "Phil told me about your little trick you did. And no one under fifty years would have hair as white as yours. Not even many _over_ fifty, for that matter." He combed his beard with his fingers, deep in thought. Obviously he did not count himself nor his very white hair.

"His hair wasn't always white," Emma piped up from the side, "it was brown until Burgeon flooded and he fell into the…" her voice fell off both from the unwanted memories and from the glare that her brother was giving her.

"Hmmm…?" North hummed, considering Emma's statement. His eyes wandered back to Jack before his head turned as well. "Do you have the Key?"

Jack froze, metaphorically and almost physically. "I─ Is that the─? It's right─" he grabbed at his neck inside his shirt, but to his confusion, felt no cool metal. The weight was there, but he wasn't wearing the key, only the ocarina. "It was here─ it was─"

North clamped his mouth shut, hushing him and glancing at Emma, motioning for her to be quiet as well. "Did you retrieve Key from deity?"

He removed his hand from Jack's face, since North's hands were easily the size of his head. Jack let out a long breath. "Yes, I─"

"Which one, boy?!" North was once again too close for comfort. "It wasn't Berkian."

"Okay, okay, calm down!" Jack held up his hands. "It was Selina, the Kidemonian Moon Goddess."

At the mention of her, North halted. "Shostakovich…" the man swore, turning away from the children, tapping his boot and pawing at his beard more intensely.

North seemed to know more than he was willing to talk about, so Jack didn't push further. Emma was about to speak, but she saw that he was shaking his head. He walked over to her and put his arms around her, the staff staying in front of both of them. No matter what this meant for Jack, he would make sure that his sister was as unaffected and as safe as possible. Even if that meant leaving her in capable hands, away from him. Until that happened, he would protect her like he always had.

Just like a brother should.

* * *

 **A/N: No, I did not mess up a your/you're anywhere in the chapter. If you're thinking that I did, it was purposeful. That's all I will say.**


	8. Chapter 7

_Chapter 7 - The Will to Leave, Part II_

* * *

In the Western gardens, pointed toward the Lady's former city, a pearl white arc was constructed that weaved leafy green vines with vibrant red, white, and yellow honeysuckles through the rungs. The midday sun illuminated the western side of the Bay, casting beautiful, dazzling lights toward the gardens high in the land. The surrounding rose bushes and lilac trees accented the air with a fresh, permeating scent. The filth of humans could barely be seen from here, so far away from reality as it was. A priest of the Skyward Seas presided over the proceedings, keeping Prince Hayden standing next to him on the platform. The hundreds upon hundreds of white seats crafted from birch wood stretched so far back toward the castle that he couldn't help but feel a little nervous. Not because he didn't know what he was about to get into; quite the opposite, actually. It seemed like all of Central Berk was here, and if they weren't he didn't know the difference. They were all watching him and that was what mattered. The watchful eyes of nobility bore into his spine. He was sure the marriage had been announced to the city, since many letters came in from the townspeople, congratulating them and praying to the Skyward gods for their safekeeping. All generic words that were said when people weren't truly pleased. Common folk had never seen the prince before, so why would they care? It wasn't like he was taking the throne. Just a wife.

A _wife_.

Hiccup fiddled with a pedal of the orchid he had attached to his lapel, remembering that she liked the blue ones. Or at least he thought it had been the blue ones. Maybe the preference had been Toothless's. The servant wouldn't be here to see the procession: he was working in the castle as punishment for not doing any work the previous day, which the prince had warned him against. But the boy never listened.

 _Don't call me boy; I'm just as old as you,_ Yhmudr _._

 _Don't call me an idiot; you're the one that decided to make a fort out of the dining tables and chairs instead of polishing them._

 _They looked better that way,_ Toothless argued from afar.

Hiccup wasn't about to argue; it wasn't his problem. This, _this_ , was his problem at the moment. Staring down the rows adorned with rose bouquets tied with white lace to each end seat, he wasn't sure of anything anymore. This marriage was an alliance to ensure the security of trade between the goods of the central city and the services of the western defense city. That was all it was supposed to be. But now…

Now, as the tresses of white began trailing down the freshly groomed grass pathway down the center of the gardens; now, as lace thinly veiling sunny blond hair swayed in the gentle breeze coming off the bay; now, as his hands found hers without his brain even registering that she had stepped up beside him…

Now it was a little different.

The Lady's hands were gloved in fine white silk, masking the fact that her arms may have been just as calloused as his, but due to brandishing an axe rather than tinkering with metal contraptions. After discussing leaving the Peninsula behind, the pair had changed topics to what they had done before meeting each other. Astrid, as it turned out, had snuck out of the Lord's grounds back in Western Berk in order to study and work along a few of the many islands on the Defense Archipelago. It was at this point that Hiccup had told her he'd never even left the palace grounds, beyond the grand stone wall gates. She was moderately surprised, considering the prince's knowledge of other cultures and swordsmanship (mostly gained from reading various books stored in the palace library) was far superior to most nobles'. These revelations only strengthened their desire to leave, however. And now, standing face to face with each other, hands paired in the finite space between them, they knew they could make the dream become a reality.

The prince had been staring so intently that he hadn't heard the vows he was supposed to recite word-for-word. The royal advisor, General Pitchiner, was standing close by. He coughed into his fist and inconspicuously nudged the prince. The heat flushed Hiccup's face and he mumbled, asking for a repeat. He could see his father slapping his face with his palm and the embarrassment was tenfold. Of course he messed up wedding vows. If he messed up everything else about being a prince, why _wouldn't_ he mess up getting married as well? He wanted to blame his nerves, and perhaps it was his nerves, but something else seemed off. As he recited the vows with his ears tuned toward the priest, his eyes discreetly followed the advisor. His light amber eyes shifted in color. They… they appeared lighter. Far more yellow. And it wasn't a pleasant yellow.

"I do," he heard Astrid say somewhere distant. Had he already said it?

But Toothless's _milmya_ was far louder: _Hiccup, pirates have invaded the palace!_

The yellow became violently bright and a wolfish grin was the only signal he needed.

"Astrid, run!" Hiccup pushed her away and he fell backward as a black blur flew just in front of his nose. There was a thud and the pitch black fletching on the arrow quivered too close to his eyes. He scrambled away only to find that Pitchiner was missing. He had just been standing there a second ago, hadn't he?

"We're under attack! Guards at the ready! Everyone follow the gardens to the far Western gate!" King Stoick's dignified voice bellowed, his gigantic sword drawn. He made sure people were moving fast enough before running in the opposite direction toward the attackers flooding through the hedges.

The prince got up on one knee, surveying the arrow. It wasn't Berkian that was for sure. What were pirates doing this far into the bay? Why hadn't Bear Fortress or Western Berk caught them slipping through? He shook his head. It didn't matter _how_ it came to happen anymore. It was _happening_ and he had to get out of here! He pushed off the ground and sprinted to where Astrid was fighting a ragged man with a knife. She had torn off the majority of her dress's skirts so that her legs were freer for movement (thankfully she seemed to always wear tights) and underneath revealed a dark garter with a small sheath attached to her inner thigh. This was the first time that he had seen her in combat, and he had to admit that even with a small knife, she was scary. But the pirate had feigned his defeat and Astrid was running past him unaware. Taking the initiative, Hiccup threw all of his weight into the side of the attacker and they crashed to the ground together. Before his dizziness subsided, a hand grabbed his arm and yanked him upright, tugging him toward the palace.

"Uh, Astrid!" He yelled, making her stop. "Aren't we supposed to be heading _away_ from the danger?"

"Well we can't just let them take the palace without a fight!" She tossed her hands up in the air. An arrow narrowly missed her wrist.

Just then another attacker had been about to slash his sword through the Lady, and the prince instantly jumped around to take the hit, not thinking about what he did. He closed his eyes tight and waited for the blow that never made it. Opening his eyes, he saw the King had taken the offender down. The long red beard was splattered darker and his eyes were filled with a cold rage, but as soon as he saw his son, he switched back to being a father. "Hiccup, take Astrid into the palace through the servants' quarters. Get to the panic room underneath the library. Stay there."

"But Dad─!" Why was he siding with her? Was the prince really _never_ the sensible one? Another arrow flew past his head, close enough to tousle his hair.

"No time! I'll cover you. GO!" King Stoick took down another attacker making their way toward them. It was clear the royalty was their target.

Grimacing but not needing another order, Hiccup grabbed Astrid's hand and they ran as fast as they possibly could. Their feet pounded on the ground, digging up the grass and weaving around chairs and broken decorations. The occasional toppled chair was jumped over or tossed at someone coming after them. Anything to get away from the endless volleys of arrows and throwing knives. Astrid being the only one with a weapon presently was deflecting as many of the closer, smaller targets as possible, dodging those with larger weapons. The others they had to try their best to avoid. Several arrows made glancing contact with his left arm, but it was never anything that slowed his pace.

They reached the quarters and he opened the door for her, still mindful that she had been the one protecting him through the sprint. Not knowing where to go, she waited for the prince to dash ahead and followed. The floor in the servants' quarters was hard-packed dirt, making it much easier to run in the tight spaces between beds and tables. Once they burst into the kitchens, Toothless barged in through the door connecting to the dining area, his formal clothes─ or rather, the brown pants that were left on his person─ torn and his chest covered in scratches. The fact that a Lady was seeing so much skin was lost on them, considering the circumstances.

"Hiccup! Thank the _Esyrado_ you're okay!" Toothless opened the door behind him and waved a hand through. "Let's go!"

The prince passed through the door and the Esyrani came through after Astrid. They were about to make it through the hallway and into the library when several men blocked their path. He cursed under his breath, wishing to Thor that he had had his rapier on him. It would have broken against one of those swords in any length of time, but it also would have been enough for them to escape.

Sensing Hiccup's distress, Toothless took the space in front, hunched and hands forward, clawed. _I've got this, go get the scimitar!_

 _But it's too heavy, I can't wield it!_ Hiccup cried indignantly as his servant began dodging swords and tearing into their arms, torsos, anything that he could grab.

 _Run, damn it!_ He snarled as he bit a chunk out of the man's arm. The prince, despite the current situation, was nearly appalled by the rage with which the Esyrani was fighting. Blood spattered onto the floor and his lips were blood red. The prince needed no more incentive.

"Hiccup, come _on!_ " Astrid tugged his arm yet again, not knowing the pair had been speaking to each other.

But she was taking them the wrong way now, he realized. "Wait, this way!"

She stopped in her tracks. "Upstairs? Are you crazy? They're just going to run us up until there are no more floors!"

He clenched his fists. She was right. But there had to be some other way out… but wait! "I─I've got a plan!" Was all that he said before continuing his ascension.

Upon reaching his room and his secret room behind the closet, he started grabbing everything he thought could be useful. The parchment paper, the compass, the spyglass, a harness─ all things he had been tinkering with recently─ and finally the scimitar. He held it briefly, staring at the black dragon that formed the hilt. The grip was slightly warm, but it seemed glued to his hand. They were going to leave, and he was going to use this to get them away from this place. It was the best time, their only choice.

"What's that?" Astrid's voice broke his concentration. She stood at the entrance.

"No time. We're leaving Berk today."

"W-what?" Astrid was in front of him, shaking his shoulders. "Are you crazy?"

"They came in on ships, but they had to leave the ships to attack us. That─ _that_ means there must be abandoned ships just waiting in the harbor! We can do this, Astrid. Y-you said you wanted to see the world, right?"

Her grip lessened, but she didn't speak.

"Let's go," was all that he said. Astrid huffed and grabbed another sword from a basket before following him back out.

They made it to the doors when more pirates came through, and they fought side by side, keeping each other's backs protected. Astrid had seized a standard rapier─ originally given to Hiccup before they had to adjust a rapier to his needs─ but that didn't seem to stop her. As soon as the enemy was close enough, she jabbed their skulls with the hilt, effectively knocking them out. He could tell she hardly knew how to use the weapon, and could occasionally hear her muttering "just stick 'em with the pointy end, the pointy end."

The prince, on the other hand, was having a hard time getting used to the scimitar's weight. But oddly, it felt right. His swings were slightly late and his arms were tiring, but the scimitar appeared to be correcting his movements slightly. It also seemed a little bit lighter as he kept fighting. Wasn't it usually the opposite? On the last downward swing, he realized far too late that he was going to get cut in half. He tried to call out to Astrid, but a blur of dark skin crashed through and the threat was gone. The attacker choked out a cry before a deep red trickled out past his lips. Astrid shrieked somewhere to Hiccup's left, but he ignored it and ran forward, out into the world past the palace.

 _You don't hold back, do you?_ Hiccup let his temporary disgust flow into his thoughts.

 _I sensed you were in danger,_ Toothless was apologetic, _I panicked._

 _Did you panic when you killed the other intruders?!_ He wasn't going to lie, seeing the Esyrani so readily fight and rip into flesh with just his bare hands left the prince a little queasy. To his chagrin, there was no answer.

Not knowing where he was going once they ran down the heights into the common city, he allowed Astrid to lead the way. She knew the way to the harbor better than he did since she had just traveled that way just yesterday. The cobbled streets were ill-kept in most areas they ran through, and many were side roads. She had reasoned that they would most likely have been spotted had they taken the nicer, more polished main road. It was understandable, but he was horrified by the treatment of the city's infrastructure. A few people, either having not seen the threat due to their location in the town or hiding slightly out of view, whispered as they passed in a hurry, the hairs rising on their necks. The townsfolk eyed the petite, curiously well-dressed boy running alongside a girl with a mangled wedding dress and blue tights and a tanned wildman, all with alarm written on their faces.

Hiccup's breath was about to run out when Astrid bore a hard right without warning. Coming to a stop and holding his weak knees, he fought to keep his lungs filled with the minimal amount of air required. Toothless surpassed him, never skipping a beat. _Hurry up, slowpoke!_

The prince's breath paused, incredulous. Were they superhuman? He jogged the rest of the distance, only to come to yet another stop when he saw what the others were gawking at.

It was a grandiose clipper ship, sporting three masts that struck the skies in stark contrast with its mellow black sails. It was smaller and thinner but far longer than any of the ships that he'd ever seen coming into the Bay from the palace windows. It was sleek with its painted black and red hull gleaming in the harsh summer sun. And sleek meant fast. Hiccup could do fast. _Red Death_ was painted on the side. How grimly appropriate.

"We're really doing this…" he wasn't sure if he had said it or not.

Once they got onto the ship, however, they realized they would need much more than three people if they wanted to get it past the Bay. The prince knew a lot of the mechanics involved, but reading books could only take him so far. Astrid remembered some things from her ship ride to Central Berk, and Toothless appeared to know a lot about this particular ship. Hiccup tried to ask him how he knew in secret, but the Esyrani couldn't give any solid answers. Figured as much. The prince had them separate and search the ship to survey for goods, gear, anything that would help them get out of the Bay until they could find more people. Although he had little doubt that many of the people would love to leave their dilapidated houses, trading them for space on a ship. Or perhaps he was projecting his own fantasies. Either way, Astrid and Toothless had split and disappeared, one below deck and one up to the quarterdeck and the rooms up above.

He was left to scour the masts and the cannons and the ropes, virtually everything on the main deck. Most pieces were in good shape, but he had the feeling that something wasn't right.

"Wher' do yew think yer goin'?" a familiar voice asked, not too far away.

"Gobber!" the prince jumped, dropping a section of rope connected to somewhere on the main mast. He cursed under his breath as he heard one of the sails unfurl. At least now he knew what _that_ rope was responsible for. "Wha-what are you doing here?"

"Yew think I was gunna let ya just up 'n' run 'way withou' any help?" the corpulent groundskeeper whispered. "I know you've been wantin' to leave, 'iccup, but I'm not lettin' ya go withou' a fair start."

This. This was unexpected. "Why… why are you helping?"

Astrid's shriek broke off Gobber's answer as several men, roughly dressed and smelling of rotten fish, burst through the door to the cabins. He hadn't even seen Astrid go through that way. She stopped beside them, panting before pulling an axe in front of them. She must have found it down in the lower levels of the boat. Great. Another reason for Hiccup to be slightly afraid of her. And by slightly, he meant _very_.

Although the Lady was the least of their worries. Fighting off the rest of the men on the boat wasn't a walk in the gardens, but it wouldn't take long. It was when the boat's quartermaster─ the gigantic, burly, ragged type with wild, dark eyes and a beard that could come to life at any moment─ came up from the captain's quarters to check out the situation. Naturally, seeing his men getting swung at by an axe, hammer, sword, and… wait, was that dark boy using his bare hands? But upon seeing the smaller boy with a blade twice his size, the man decided his target. Separating him from the rest was easy. He wasn't fast, nor steady on his feet.

Hiccup knew he wouldn't be able to fight this guy off. He hardly fought anyone off before today. And being on a boat with a weighted scimitar was making this about as difficult as trying to impress his father. He was failing about the same. Holding him off, but not avoiding the subtleties that would slowly tear him down.

The quartermaster had an older cutlass, simple in build but sharper than most steak knives he'd seen in the palace's kitchens. He knew because his sleeves had been cut clean through several times when he had been too weak to block. The fight continued far longer than any of his sparring sessions with Sir Ithel, and the taxation on his strength─ what little he had─ was taking its toll. But what Hiccup hadn't expected was the kick to his stomach, air escaping his lungs as his back thudded against the planks. Dirty trick. The knights he sparred with had never been that uncouth. Head smacking against the floor an instant later, his vision hazed and the familiar, warm weight of the scimitar was gone. The dull glint of the quartermaster's sword caught his eyes and he knew it was going to cut him from throat to stomach. Blood everywhere. At least it would match the hull.

 _NO!_ Toothless's scream ripped through his mind and some force was pulling him backward. Hiccup saw the Esyrani's hands under his arms and the floor slid away from him. Then there was the sound of metal slicing through flesh and pain flooded his senses as the faint smell of copper wafted to his nose. Peering down, he saw red and silver and white poking out in places they shouldn't have been and he heaved and reeled and fell back in shock.

The floating feeling remained as the darkness of absence enveloped him.

* * *

 **A/N: So... it's been about a week since I last updated... woops.**

 **Apparently this semester is much busier than I thought it would be. And I somehow decided I wanted to do tutoring on top of my thesis. Wut.**

 **Needless to say, the updates are going to slow down. I'm going to try for no longer than a week in between chapters (with, of course, more chapters being done over spring break), but I guess we'll see how well I hold myself to commitments.**

 **Have a great day/night! :)**


	9. Chapter 8

_Chapter 8 - The Will to Stay, Part II_

* * *

As it turned out, Sir North had much to tell the young boy with the Key.

The Key wasn't really a key. The gods, in their texts and temples and shrines and other such things, called it a Key as it was the closest analogy humans could understand. Had Jack received this information just a month prior, he would have scoffed at the explanation and gone to play tricks and games. Of course the humans would come up with some sort of convoluted logic to explain an ethereal mechanism used to store things away and keep it from those "unworthy." Because it wasn't a lock and key, no, that was too simple.

But because he learned of this all after dying at the bottom of a lake in the middle of a tsunami and a rainstorm, he was a little more open-minded. Funny how that worked.

The Key was a Power of another name from before the gods existed. It wasn't a god in its own right, but an explosive potential, creating the world in a perfect storm of circumstances. When the world was new, still crawling on its proverbial path toward nourishment, it looked very different from how it did at present. Volcanoes and raging oceans and violent weather were at war against the Inhabitants created to watch over the new universe. But some of these Inhabitants, akin to modern people but without limitations, were not keen on living in a place that tried to kill them. One, unnamed except in one text lost from human eyes since the beginning of the Berkian Empire, got the idea to steal the Power to recreate the world. Others jumped on board, and soon a different war was started. The blood of thousands stained the waters and bone piles were thick enough to withstand eruptions of lava.

Many years passed, as the Power had sought no reason to put a limit to life, its own precious conception. The few that were left on the death trap of a planet had managed to come close to seizing It, but alone, they could not grasp It. In the shelter of a cove, hidden from the Power's motherly eye, they created the Skyward Pact, in which they would work together to capture It to change the world into a better place, and afterward lock the Power away and split the responsibility between themselves.

Their rebellion worked, although it was not known how or why, nor what they did to achieve such a victory. The world was made anew, with calm seas and lands teeming with life, and people who loved, worshiped, and followed them. The people were given weakened magic similar to the Inhabitants' so that they could thrive. Their lost brethren were given control over the Sealing of the Olden Seas, which was to be done when creating the Earthen Seas. Energy could not be lost or gained by nothingness when the Power was used by another being, meaning the Olden Seas couldn't simply be obliterated, so the living Inhabitants gave rule over what humans now called the Under Seas to the ones lost in the Olden Seas. It served as a reminder of the selfishness and animosity that brought many to their eternal doom.

In congruence with their agreement, the Power was locked away and sealed with the Key, a parcel with each Inhabitant's power infused into its material made from the hardened magma and rock of the Olden Seas. The seal was put in the center of the Sky, where the Sun harbored its greatest rays, masking its hiding place. The Key, however, was passed in between the Inhabitants─ nine self-renamed gods and goddesses─ so that the Skyward Pact remained in the Skyward Seas and no more greed could befall their creations as it had once done to them.

Who kept the key and for how long, unfortunately, was out of their control. So much of each Inhabitant was put into the Key that it gained a mind of sorts. Nothing as tangible as an animal's brain, but a will worth reckoning. Every undisclosed amount of time─ years, decades, even centuries─ the Key chose a different possessor─ a Guardian. The Guardian, while they were one, could not say whether or not they had the Key to others, so as to keep the peace. But as their beloved peoples on the Earthen Seas evolved biologically, emotionally, and socially, groups began to intermingle and certain gods and goddesses found themselves a conjoined following. These groups became groups known now as the Berkians, Kidemonians, Esyrani, Teristasians, among others each with their own gods and goddesses. So much time had passed that the love in people's hearts shelled itself from outsiders, even if they were all created from the same Inhabitants. The key had been tossed in between the Berkian gods and goddesses for ages, as random order would have it. It allowed for great fortune that catapulted the Berkian Empire to its immediate glory, turning from temples to marketplaces and from worship to tax figures.

So much time had passed that some people never even believed, and magic was eventually forgotten.

Rumor had it, due to the impartiality of the Key, it had dropped to the Earthen Seas and into the hands of a nonbeliever because they were not tied down to anything. No reason for it, the Key just felt like it needed a change, North guessed. The non-believing hands belonged to the man others called the Great Demon Fovos. The Key, incomprehensible to humans, could not be used by him, even if his magical powers were greater than any human's at the time. The Key did seem to augment whatever lay inside the human's heart, however. It seemed as if Fovos had this in mind and had been planning something. But if it could not be used by humans, and the human who was in possession of the Key died, it would then move to its next Guardian back in the Skyward Seas.

What Sir North speculated beyond this fantastic tale was that the Key came to be in Selina's care after Fovos left the Earthen Seas. And since the Key was not in Berkian control anymore, the Berkian deities were keen on getting back what they began to believe was theirs. It was a fair assumption. When someone borrowed a tool from their neighbor and forgot to hand it back, the tool would soon become theirs in their memory. Seeing as the Inhabitants were once human-like, it was reasonable to assume they could fall prey to the same fallacies.

With the tremendous power of the gods and goddesses united by Berkians, Selina was backed into a corner with only one feasible option: force the Key to choose another Guardian.

And what had that new Guardian done in the three years since gaining the sacred Key?

He worked on the docks, like his father once had, albeit with an irrational, irritable, inconsiderate, _insufferable_ jerk for a boss: Mr. Aster Bunnymund. He didn't even let Jack play his ocarina when he had finished his work. As high-strung as this man was, he was oddly liberal in his appearance. His back, chest, arms, and wrists were covered in navy tattoos and he had long graying hair in a braid that reached past his shoulder blades. He wasn't as old as Sir North, which was obvious by the build of his body when he worked shirtless in the sun, but twice as ornery. There were several good reasons for Jack to stay in this position, however, and he tolerated Aster's demeanor toward the orphaned youth. As long as Jack made himself useful and stayed out of unreasonable danger, Sir North allowed Emma and him to lodge in his house, the capitol building of Synerthos. Not bad amenities, either. As long as she was safe and kept out of the Key ordeal─ one which she had no knowledge of─ he was content. And now he knew why North had taken such urgency in his situation. But there was still something that he didn't know.

"What do I do with this Key if I can't use it or give it away?" Jack had asked North a few days later, after taking in the massive amount of lore that─ if one hundred percent true─ was troubling, to say the least.

North showed him a painted wooden doll, as if that answered anything. As Jack began to dismantle the doll, the governor spoke. "You can either buckle up and pray to gods for safety, or you can find Center."

"Find a Center? You mean like the center of the Sky? To use the Key?" He was getting progressively more terrified at the prospect. It sounded like heroics, and that didn't sound like any fun at all.

"Keep holding horses, boy!" North put his hand on Jack's hands, which had been about to break the doll without realization. He lessened his grip as the man continued. "Center is yours. Each Guardian has their own. That is how they keep Key stable. You find Center, you find stability. Simple!"

"But… what _is_ a Center?" he stopped taking the doll apart, finding no use for the task. There were just more dolls.

North pointed to each wooden shell in order by size. "Each part is part of me. I am big, intimidating. But," the smaller doll, now, "I am also jolly. Mysterious. Fearless!"

Jack saw it now. Each had a specific expression. And the painting did somewhat resemble the hefty governor.

North went on: "And caring. But at my Center…"

Jack popped off the last shell, and dumped out a tiny figurine, vaguely in the shape of a… "A little wooden baby?"

"Look closer. What do you see?" He was getting excited, seeing the boy learn something new. Jack couldn't figure out why.

"You… have big eyes?"

"Yes! Big eyes! Very big. Because they are full of _wonder_! That is my Center. It is what I was born with. Eyes that have always seen the _wonder_ in everything!" He put an arm around Jack's shoulders and brought him to the large bay windows that overlooked the city and the harbor. "Eyes that see the spirit on the ships and the magic in the air!"

With the unexpected, grandiose statement, he put both his hands on Jack's respectively puny shoulders and pulled him close as North knelt to his eye level. "This wonder is what I contribute to Earthen Seas, and what I protect in people of my city. What I protect in you, as next Guardian of Key."

"I─ I don't understand. Why do you know so much about this? Why don't more people know about this so that we can avoid the wrath of the Key?"

"Ah, but if more people knew, we would have bigger problem, no? Not all are pure of heart. It was long ago that leaders were taught to find Center, to share in burden should one of their people be given Key. But that was before so much information was lost to time. I learned of it from my time on sea. I made sure others on Kidemonas and Delfinae─ others I trusted─ knew how to do this. It was unfortunate Fovos was first one to fall, when no one knew how to ease the madness, but that was when I learned."

And from there, North went on numerous rants over the years about his time as a pirate. It came as a shock at first, finding out that an esteemed figurehead in the modern world was once a powerful quartermaster, a man who was first in command on a ship, only second to the captain in times of battle. He was given a chance to join ranks with Fovos, but had declined and narrowly escaped with his life, so terrifying the effects of the Key had been. That story alone had been enough to convince Jack that he needed North's help.

But finding a Center was harder than North made it seem. There were various steps including meditation, magic control, and Arte manipulation. Artes were concentrated forms of magic that could be obtained through yet other various methods that Jack never bothered to consider, but they were necessary. To know an Arte was to be proficient in magic control, however, and Jack was a long way off. His ice and frost had flown freely in small amounts, nearly undetectable.

That was until they had been living inside a warm house long enough to see the effects. His footsteps froze the floors and made stairs impossible to climb. His hands caused shattered pipes and fractals in the hottest of baths. He had tried wearing gloves, thicker clothing, standing in front of fireplaces, but concealing his powers proved fruitless. North had pointed out that of course it would be impossible to hide because it was a part of his heart. When Jack had asked how ice could have been in his heart, North simply laughed and joked about Jack waiting for some sort of fire to melt his Center.

And although it was meant as a joke, Jack felt the governor was onto something. That fact alone, though, was insufficient to gain even a piece of knowledge about his Center. So he left it alone. He did learn how to stunt the flow of frost for the most part, eventually. Besides, Jack hadn't even had the time to ask North about the cryptic message Selina had parted him with before Aster had started barking orders at him and bouncing lividly about some late shipment from Meer's Port.

It was some other similar issue he was ranting about now, almost three years after moving to Synerthos. Jack, as usual, avoided the man until he had a solid plan to get back at Mr. Bunnymund for making him work an hour overtime yesterday. He was laid away on one of the incoming ships behind several crates, supposedly carrying the parcels into port. But instead, he was waiting. As soon as he heard Aster's accent, obviously annoyed about something, coming closer, Jack coated the edge of the plank at the top of the deck in a thin veneer of ice. It had to be done at exactly the right time, or else the summer sun would melt it or Aster would notice him and the plan would fail. He waited patiently, as still as a glacier, until he heard Aster's voice rise to a surprised shriek, followed by a heavy thump and an unexpected splash.

Jack peeked around the corner and burst out laughing when he saw that his boss had actually fallen _into_ the water. He would have laughed harder if the voice behind him hadn't startled him.

"I take it you're a fan of practical jokes?"

The boy spun around and straightened up in an instant. "General Pitchiner! Hey... Uh, lovely day for traveling?"

"Don't pretend to be so kind, it doesn't fit you," Pitchiner chided. He was a Berkian that traveled to Synerthos twice every year for supplies and news of the eastern nations, but he never stayed long. Nevertheless, something drew Jack to the man and witty banter was common between them when he visited. Sir North had warned Jack to stay away from strange men like him, but since when was Jack someone who follow the rules?

"JACK!" Mr. Bunnymund had finally found his way back onto the boardwalk. "I hope you like carrots, because I'm gonna shove a dozen of 'em down your throat when I─ Emma! Uh-h-heya little Anklebitah!"

"Emma…?" Jack raised an eyebrow and turned around slowly. There she was, holding his staff and a basket with a cloth draped over the sides, standing on the boarding deck.

"Hello, Aster. Hi, Jack. You forgot your lunch at home, so I thought I'd bring it to you. Are you busy? We could eat together. Um, I don't have anything for…" she gestured to the tall Berkian.

"My apologies. I am General Pitchiner, but you, Miss, may refer to me as Pitchiner," the man offered as he bowed in respect, arms at his sides.

"Pleasure to meet you," Emma replied.

"And you needn't feed me," he added. "Go on, Jack. I would, however, like to have a chat with you afterwards."

"Will do!" Jack called over his shoulder as he walked with Emma back into the city.

"I'm dealing with you before that!" Bunnymund shouted.

"Try to catch me, cottontail!" Jack stuck his tongue out, grabbed Emma, and ran faster in case his boss meant to give chase. Emma gasped at the sudden change of pace and skipped, nearly tripping, in order to keep up with her enthusiastic brother.

"H-how─ how do I even _look_ like a rabbit, mate?" Aster asked to no one in particular.

"You do have a rather skittish sense about you," Pitchiner muttered under his breath and walked back toward his ship before the man could retaliate.

* * *

It was just after Jack and Emma finished eating when the cannons blasted through the buildings closest to the water's edge, wood splintering and stonework falling apart. The destruction was immediate and the city-wide alarm was blaring so loud that even people who lived closer toward the mountains were going deaf. They were at the open gazebo that overlooked the beach when it shook purely from the compression of airwaves off the attack. Not understanding what was going on, he had pulled his sister to the ground and covered her with his own body instinctively. A second shot shattered several ships in the harbor, just below them. A ringing in their ears prevented them from speaking, but Jack knew it wasn't safe to stay here. Grabbing the staff, he also plucked her up and took off farther into the city, hoping to find someone who could figure this out.

They didn't get far when they realized the local stores and residences were getting ransacked. Several ships in the harbor weren't there before, and their passengers were none too friendly. One ship must have come from each side of the cape on which the city was positioned, and an additional ship must have already been docked for enemies to already be causing this much trouble. They rampaged the streets, stabbing, stealing, and pillaging everything. The streets were a confused mess of wagons and carts and donkeys and humans. Jack led Emma around the terrified people that bumped into anything that was in their straight-lined path. He gathered Synerthos hadn't been attacked in the years. Who would have the guts to ransack the largest city east of the Berkian Peninsula?

Passing an intersection, the pair was stopped by shards of glass being blown in front of their path, a man in rags with several short swords grunting as his backside slid along the pavement. Eyeing the children, he grinned in a sadistic fashion, lunging for them. Jack, in a panic, swept his staff up in defense and waited for the blow while shoving Emma in the opposite direction. But the blow didn't come when he thought it would. Peeking through his eyes previously squeezed shut, he realized that the man had slipped on some very convenient ice. Little hops of excitement were cut short when he heard Emma shout.

Several other men, wild-eyed and ragged, had each of her arms and a knife to her throat. She kicked at them despite this, and made an attempt at biting one of their hands. The blade was pushed closer and she halted, a thin bead of blood trickling down the length of the metal. Jack built up the magic inside him and was about to charge when a deep, dark, commanding voice stopped him in his tracks.

A giant of a man─ just shy of Sir North's remarkable seven feet─ clad in a scaly, dark cobalt cape and an intricate, thick tunic with a crimson belt, marched his way toward the exchange. He had dreadlocks that snaked their way down from his head, around his shoulders, and over his beard, just as dreadlocked and reaching over his barreled chest. The cape covered the man's left arm from view, and the other arm was relatively bare except for several iron plates tied around his skin. A silver spear with two points, one curved so as to showcase the blood ruby nestled in the spearhead, was pointed at the ground as he approached. Jack felt rough hands grab his biceps, but not his staff. He kept still for the moment, hoping not to give away his only hope at his and Emma's escape.

"MEN! Why are you not at your─" Drago's large mouth slacked at the sight before him. His eyes read the situation, the frost crackling as it melted at the boy's feet, and an idea formed in his mind. Force was the easier route, but perhaps a little _fun_ would help move things along. Drago shot out a silent message. In closing, he added, _he'll be your responsibility. Make sure you don't kill him before we're ready._

"Well, if it isn't my lucky day," his voice drawled out sadistically, "it's the Guardian."

The man holding Jack jumped at the chance. "Aye, captain, sir! Ah've found 'im right easy for ye! I wa─"

"SILENCE!" He bellowed. The grip on Jack's arms released in fear, and he took the chance.

Jack launched himself at the giant, feeling the ice collecting in his veins and funneling it into his staff. He had never tried to use this much deliberately before, and being used to hiding it was disadvantageous, to say the least. Not only that, but he'd never been able to conjure more than a brittle layer of frost. But he had to try. Swinging his arms back, power thrummed in his hands. There was no way this much ice _couldn't_ freeze anyone within this immediate range. He gave it all he had.

The staff was stopped mid-swing, cold smoke wafting from the knotted wood. The jarring sensation numbed Jack's hands, but he couldn't drop the staff. The built up ice couldn't spread, thus his grip was effectively glued. A black arm of formless matter held it in place. It billowed from the area underneath the man's cloak, where his real arm was nowhere to be seen. Jack's stomach fell to his feet and the scream died in his throat.

He leaned in close, the scar across his face deep and creviced, discolored. "Name's Drago," he greeted with stale breath, "I've been looking for you for a long time, Key Guardian."

"I won't go with you," Jack stood his ground not only for his sister, but also because he had frozen himself that way.

Drago beckoned the men holding Emma with his staff. There was little delay in the command, and Emma was brought up close to his scrutinizing gaze. Failing to put on a brave face, her lips quivered in a thin line and her eyes grew wide.

"She'll do fine," Drago nodded. "Take her to the hold below deck. I'll deal with her properly in a moment."

The men aye'd and carried the shrieking girl over their shoulders toward the docks. Drago eyed them for a while, smiling to himself.

The instant the smoke arm dissipated, Jack swung again. He barely grazed Drago's armored shoulder as the man dodged. Jack kept up, adding poorly-timed kicks when he could, but the man wasn't budging.

"Give her back!" he screamed. At this rate, he'd never reach her!

"Are you sure you won't come with me now?" he barked louder, gaining on Jack with little effort. Staff raised, he was aiming to knock the boy out. Jack held his staff horizontally above him and winced, already anticipating the staff to break a second time.

But instead of a blow to the head, Jack's arm was nearly torn from its socket as he was pulled out from under the attack. The force continued and he began running. Opening his eyes, he recognized Pitchiner's long, ashen fingers clawing at his wrist. His tailored Berkian coat, trimmed with a gold color, was a stark contrast from Jack's loose white shirt, held together by string. His thick, military-grade leather boots clipped the cobblestone so fast that individual steps were hard to distinguish. Jack's bare feet─ working near the water made shoes impractical─ slapped along the same ground, getting pebbles caught in between his aching toes. He looked over his shoulder to find Drago's figure struggling to escape from a whirlwind of similar black smoke. Did Pitchiner do that?

"The mask will only work for a few more seconds," Pitchiner answered Jack's thoughts as they spun around a corner toward the far side of the docks. Drago's ship was already sailing off as Pitchiner continued, "so we have to get a move on before he breaks out."

Jack's mind was traveling too fast, leaving his body behind. "Why─ what are you doing?"

"You want to save your sister, don't you?" He stopped them in front of a ship Jack assumed was his. Without another plan, they boarded the ship.

* * *

From a distant scuffle of swords, fists, and boomerangs, Aster saw the foreigner shove Jack─ _his_ employee─ onto the boat and prepare to sail off.

" _Oh_ ," he muttered darkly, "not on your nelly."

When no one was paying mind to the tattooed man, he stowed away onto Pitchiner's boat.

* * *

 **A/N:** **This chapter marks the end of the prologues! (I said this was a slow build, right? Like, REALLY slow?) Now each begin their adventures on the Earthen Seas! Don't worry, our love interests will meet each other soon. ;)**

 **HINT: Be prepared for some time-skipping!**


	10. Chapter 9

_Chapter 9 - Burden to Bury, Burden to Carry_

* * *

Hiccup awoke in a cold sweat to find unfamiliar surroundings. The sky was covered in a green canopy similar to the tree thickets behind the palace gardens. In fear, he looked around for any evidence that he was somehow brought back to Central Berk. Nothing but green which seemed to float in and out of focus. A dash of light. A river glistened to his right, reflecting some unseen and unnatural light source. It trickled by, leaving him behind in its due course. Ferns tickled his cheeks and in his hair were twigs and leaves. He rubbed his eyes. He had to be sure it was real. The forest was unearthly, but still present when his vision adjusted.

There was the sound of a high-pitched, breathy song's echo that weaved around the branches, swaying with a brisk─ but oddly enough, not cold─ wind. The haunted air was more chilling, reaching for him and caressing his face with smooth, ethereal fingers. Every few beats, the sound fell away to a low note only to start again a beat later, much higher. It was calling to him, willing him to stand, asking for company. It yearned for recognition with a reverent tone. Innocent and light, it snaked around him and urged him forward. He stumbled, blind. The roots in the undergrowth were dragging his left foot, pulling it into the earth. But despite this, the song seemed to say it was okay. To come forward, mindless of terrain, and embrace the essence beckoning him. At some point, in the back of his foggy mind, he felt like one of the sheep herded throughout the Kentri Forest that made up the middle stretch of the Berkian Peninsula before climbing up into the Lower Ouran mountains to the West. But this wasn't the Kentri. No forest sang like a shepherdess.

Several times Hiccup fell to the ground, but when he went to free his legs, there was nothing but greenery, no matter how many times he separated the grass and the shrubbery. After dull shock subsided, he realized he was dressed differently. No princely uniform clung to his pathetic, wimpy body. Aside from the lack of feet, lost to the undergrowth, his legs were bound in tightly wrapped cloth up to his knees, where loose-fitting material was tucked in─ weird pants, he guessed. A green, formless tunic was tied at his midriff by a section of rope, and around his shoulders and chest was a thick cloak that fell to the ground behind him, clasped to his chest by a simple gold pin. There was something off about it. He didn't think he owned anything like these. He didn't think _anybody_ did. Not in the past five hundred years, at the least. Who dressed him?

Where was Astrid? Toothless? Memories returned in fragments but made little sense. The somber voice continued to rise and fall, crying for him. He walked on.

The forest began to thin, opening up more and more. The air was clearer and the singing was closer. He picked up his pace, stomping angrily when his invisible feet dragged him back again. Gaining speed, his easy plodding turned into a frantic jog─ it was the fastest he could go. The voice became more tangible, more understandable. No, the song changed. There were no words before. Now, something had changed and lyrical verses were greeting his ears unsteadily.

─ _shall give my brother my_ ──  
 _All under the_ ── _tree  
_ _That he shall take with him wherever_ ─  
 _Ye ride so carefully through_ ── _with_ ─

 _One child they took to Freya_ ─  
 _All under the_ ── _tree  
_ _The other they took to the hall of Valhalla  
_ _Ye ride so carefully through_ ── _with_ ─

Hiccup gasped as the woods gave way to an open meadow, empty but for a pond. And standing in this pond...

─ _her._

She stopped singing just as he escaped onto the plains, pure and holy and he wholly undeserving. Was she the one singing the first song? Why was she here? _Where_ was here?

The woman turned her green eyes to his. She was wearing an ivory dress that draped off her fair shoulders and trailed into the waters, sending soft ripples to the far end by some reeds and water lilies. Golden belts and trimmings framed her slender figure. Light orange-blond hair curled around her flawless face and fell neatly around her shoulders and breasts. A band of gold rested around the crown of her head, draping in a dainty cascade of several falcon feathers through her locks. Her thin lips were smiling effortlessly, light and pink.

"Hello, my child," her voice flowed, like the Skyward Seas' fabled Silks. It was said that they were as soft as the clouds, nearly absent when felt, but always missed when gone. It sang like the song before, but new meaning came with each word now.

Hiccup knew in an instant who he was talking to and knelt on one knee, bowing deeply with his hand across his chest. He understood now why his Prince attire was cast aside for simpler fabric. "My humblest apologies, Berkian Goddess of Love and War, Freya."

"Do stand, young soldier," her hand was suddenly cupping his chin, warm and supple and so far above the likes of him. "It is not your time to fall."

He stood, her hand still holding him steady, and felt a pang of guilt. "I─I'm not a soldier. And, even if─ even if I was one, I deserve to fall..." The words left his lips and stubborn disdain settled on his face.

Her hand trailed his cheek and combed lightly through his hair, a fond smirk appearing on her features. "Your body may have left, but your heart will always be Berkian. Do your best to remember that, young one. It may not seem true in the seas ahead, but to persevere is to serve your Goddess well."

The wind was gentle, making little sound, but creating a soothing atmosphere all the same. The hallowed ground accepted his dirty footsteps in light of her grace, and the overwhelming peace settled deep in his bones. He refused to keep her eyes in his for longer than a breath, her beauty truly surpassing the physical reality of the Earthen Seas. Looking down, he sighed. "Why would a Goddess speak to a wayward Prince?"

After a long, painful while with no answer, he peered through his bangs to see that she had turned around and walked back to the pond. Turning to him, she beckoned him to the water's edge. Urgently following her direction, he stepped to where the water lapped at his nonexistent feet. He was about to ask about it, but thought better of it and waited for his Goddess's speech.

She chose to answer his unspoken question. "Your feet are gone for two reasons, my dear," she spoke to the other side of the pond rather than to him, "one foot has already left the Earthen Seas. The other is not holy and cannot touch the soil of the Skyward Seas. For you to come to this realm without certainty of your death, I had to make sure you would not die simply because rules were broken."

Hiccup perked up, but not because of his foot. "W-wait, I'm not dead?" The memory of the sword striking down on him came back full force and his body began to ache. "The pirate─ I was─ he didn't kill me?"

Her laughter was a short measure of heavenly music. "The Gods have a plan for you, Prince Hiccup. We needed a brave, courageous soul with the heart of a dragon. Of course, the bond you share with the─" she pursed her lips and composed herself in an instant, leaving the boy unsure as to whether he had witnessed it, "─the bonds you share will be great assets to you in the… Cause for Peace. As such, you have my Blessing for the safe return to Berk whenever you choose. There is just one condition." She led him into the water until it was up to his waist.

Hiccup's life was spared by her. He felt he owed her that much and more. He nodded and she whispered into his ear, swirling runes into the water around his body while he attended to the instructions.

 _You must… find the key…_

* * *

The tavern in the outskirts of Senja was crowded for a midweek evening. The bartender slid overflowing steins down the row, although they remained largely ignored past the first chug. The majority of the attention was paid toward the staging area meant for local instrumentalists. Some regular, probably Mr. Lout Jorgenson─ commonly referred to as Snot by other locals─ was heckling a stranger into a fight. People usually ignored his instigating tactics, but when the newcomer took to the challenge, everyone had to see who on the Earthen Seas could _possibly_ go up against the stocky young adult. He, unlike other bullies, had the brawn and guts to back up his statements. Well, most of the time.

Peering over the other customers, the bartender scoffed. The person taking his steps into the light of the entire bar was a skinny lad with shaggy brown hair, a small braid behind his ear was nearly invisible from this distance. On the young man's last step, gasps and finger-pointing commenced. The bartender walked around the side of the bar and leaned around the masses to get a better look. What he saw certainly shocked him, despite being used to many a stranger at his establishment over the years.

The boy was missing a foot.

Not only that…

The bartender went back to his post and pulled a notice paper he'd meant to tack onto the bulletin for a couple days now, maybe weeks. He was notoriously bad at keeping the kingdom's reports updated. Thankfully many people didn't go to taverns for news.

The notice had an artist's rendition of the Prince of the Berkian Peninsula and a handsome reward that would set up a family of ten for a lifetime. No one had ever seen the Prince before, and the rendition wasn't the most accurate, so the odds were that the Prince would never be found. Especially not after three years. The drawing was supposedly from the only portrait in the castle of the boy when he was the age he went missing. The boy in the picture had relatively straight, flat hair that was as dark as the penciled lines, although the bartender believed it could be brown, if his hunch was right. The ink had dried on this paper long ago and the darker colors were indistinguishable. The eyes, however, were colored in green ink, a striking trait of the Haddock royal family. This green put the untamed woods of the Kentri forest that grew along the length of the Peninsula, lush with fern and brush undergrowth and evergreen canopies stretching to the skies even in the harshest of winters, to shame. The age listed was sixteen years, but in all honesty, the portrait looked much younger. Regardless, it would mean the Prince would be around nineteen years of age currently.

There was nothing about the Prince missing a foot, though.

* * *

A week had passed after they escaped Central Berk before Hiccup woke up to find his left foot missing, nothing of the eerie forest remaining except in his memory. The stitching on his stump was haphazard and it had smelled terrible. Astrid would come by and clean it for him twice a day, and bring news about what had happened and where they were. As it turned out, Gobber and Sir Ithel had climbed aboard. Ithel had seen Gobber leave the castle in a hurry and decided to follow because it was in the opposite direction of all the other people. It was Sir Ithel that took on where Hiccup left off and dealt with the quartermaster of the _Red Death_ , currently renamed the _Night Fury_. Astrid and Toothless, being the only members on board that knew anything of sea navigation, sailed straight out of the bay past the city of Utoya. It was in the middle of the Sea of Dragons that Hiccup came to. Gathering his senses, he had begun giving orders for maps, pens, notes, as well as for inventories of supplies and the ropes and sails and commands for steady sailing. It wasn't long before others simply did as he said, soon referring to him as Captain.

In this fashion, they sailed east until they came across a widespread triangle of three small, rocky islands. Having nearly run out of supplies, however, these islands were useful in collecting food, wood, weights, among other things better spotted with a nose─ most humble thanks to Toothless. The Esyrani claimed that these islands were similar to Anoi's geography from what he had remembered. Hiccup thought it strange that he could recall geography but not his family, but said nothing.

In truth, it was Toothless that had woken Hiccup the first time after the business with the Goddess. He had been complaining that Hiccup was mumbling incessantly about keys, feet, gold, and green nonsense and that it was hard to fall asleep, although no one else had heard. It was a startling wake-up call in his mind when Toothless screamed at him to shut up from rooms away, but it was nice to be able to feel something again. Not that he could say that for anything below his left knee. Needless to say, he was gracious to Freya. In the morning, he had relayed to Toothless what had happened while he was out, but the Esyrani shrugged it off as blood loss-induced delirium and went about his business with the sails. Not even the ink stained onto Hiccup's right hand could convince the Esyrani. _It's just some bruise, it'll go away._

Some bruise. It was vague in its shape, but there were more than blacks and blues. It seemed to almost form a shape, the black encircling the blue. A hint of red trailed at the bottom of it, nearing Hiccup's wrist. He guessed it could have been a bruise, but somehow the colors would shift each day, as if coming closer into focus. Or maybe he was still recovering from incredible blood loss and occasional hallucinations were completely normal.

And so, for three years, they stuck to the begrudging routine of sailing back to smaller towns on the Berkian Peninsula to pick up ragtags and orphans, rejected sailors and willing workers, or simply those fed up with the bourgeoisie, and offer them work aboard the _Night Fury_. Some came for a short trip; some were in for the long haul. Others jumped on eagerly, while others needed some sort of proof. As it turned out, said proof was usually settled with a sword duel, a bribe, or both. More often than not, however, the sword was mightier than the gold. Of course, no one turned down a coin or two when offered.

Where was this money? Hiccup had found several chests and trunks in the ship's stores near the orlop deck, two floors below the main deck. Never would he have thought to bring riches from the palace, nor would he want the crew members to know that he was in fact one of the highest-ranking of the bourgeoisie, even if only by blood. It seemed Drago's ships were either paid well or had several part time jobs. Either way, the stores were more than enough to take on a few hired hands for a year. Although he supposed he would need more if he wanted to spend his life out on the seas, or at the very least, far away from Central Berk. And who knows how long it might take to find the Key that Freya had mentioned? It could be ages. Regardless, he knew he would have to settle for true piracy sooner or later.

Hiccup ruffled his hands through his hair again. He had been mentioning to Astrid, sitting across from him in a booth at the back of a wayward bar, that the Berkian trade ships had increased in numbers since their group's past excursion from Sorna back to the Berkian mainland for recruitments. Before she could respond, an oil-stained hand shoved into his shoulder. In an instant, Hiccup was on guard. _Toothless, keep an eye on the exit. Be sure to clear it when I tell you._

 _Aye, Captain._ A dark-skinned man sitting at the front of the bar gulped the last of his drink and sauntered closer to the entrance, leaning against the wall nonchalantly. His eyes were downcast and he paid little attention to those around him.

Hiccup was turned around by the stranger's hand plucking at his shirt from over the backrest of the booth. To his surprise, it was a young man near his age, the beginnings of a moustache dusting his upper lip. Greasy black hair waved out from a snug bandana. His arms appeared thicker than his skull.

But what was thickest was his breath. "You don't look like you're from around here."

"Well, I'm not," Hiccup brushed him off and rolled his eyes toward Astrid. She smirked and shook her head. Don't start anything.

The man turned his stare toward the blond. "Well, _hello_ , my fair lady," he got out of his booth and walked over to Astrid, kneeling and taking her hand, "what lovely complexion." He kissed the back of her hand, and judging by her facial expression, Hiccup believed it to be just as slimy as his attitude.

"Far too beautiful for this guy," he nodded in Hiccup's direction. "Is he bothering you?"

"No," she said curtly, "but you are," pulling her hand from his and kicking him back with a delicately strong heel.

Hiccup glared at Astrid. "I thought the plan _wasn't_ to start anything."

"He started it!" She growled under her breath.

He rolled his eyes and stood, brushing down his attire. He'd changed out of the outlandish Prince coats and ruffles for a white string-tied button-up and a red sash around his waist that held his scimitar. On a belt hooked around his leg and attached to his waistband, a small knife was hidden. He wouldn't use either if he didn't have to. Rolling his shoulders, Hiccup walked in front of Astrid and gave the OK signal behind his back to her. She unsheathed the knife from his inner thigh and tucked it into the holster under her skirts, also no longer bearing any royal resemblance. They did this for several reasons. One, Astrid would have a knife handy in case things went sour. Two, Hiccup did not like to cheat and preferred to remove the temptation from his person.

"No one kicks down Lout Jorgenson," the man introduced himself in third-person, "not even a girl─ get outta my way!" He made a move to throw the scrawny stranger out of the way. That was a mistake.

Hiccup hit the man's wrists with his palms, deflecting the momentum to the table behind him. The man named Lout tripped full force onto the table, tipping it and spilling half-empty plates and cups. The mixing of various ingredients became slop as it fell on his head, face, and his shoulders. The entire bar was silent.

"Stage. Now." Lout picked himself up and glowered.

"What? Is your pride so hurt you have to take it out on someone without a skirt?" Hiccup picked at his fingers nonchalantly, deciding not to look up. Besides, he'd gotten a piece of food stuck in the nail.

From underneath Lout's cloak, he pulled an axe. It was a little startling, but Hiccup kept a hand near his own hilt without a change in facial expression.

"I'm not afraid to use this, you know," Lout took a step forward, pushing them back toward the stage.

 _And I believe you!_ He had to think of a way to turn this around.

 _Oh, please. You really think he can beat you?_ Toothless snorted from across the room.

 _It's not that… he just seems bullheaded._ Hiccup smirked. _Think he'll join?_

 _Are you serious? He'd turn on you as soon as you dropped your guard. Or hit on Astrid and get knocked around. On second thought, bring him aboard!_

Hiccup grinned and relaxed his posture. Before stepping on to the raised platform, he held out his hand. "Here, if you beat me, I'll leave with my tail between my legs. If I win, you're joining my crew."

Lout barked a loud laugh. "Your _crew_? What are you, a pirate or something?"

"Try pirate _captain_ ," he extended his hand again, more firmly. "I'll prove it."

Lout smacked his hand away and pointed to the stage, candles at the corners already lit as if everyone had been expecting a fight the moment the table flipped. That was a fair assumption. "Talk with your skill. If you have any."

"So you accept?" An eyebrow raised in question.

"Like you'd win against my muscles!" The man made it obvious his arms were quite large, probably from ungodly amounts of self-satisfaction to deal with his bruised ego. "But yeah, sure, whatever."

Hiccup took a deep breath and stepped onto the stage, body bathed in unnecessary candlelight. All eyes were on him. This was not the usual pace of things for them, considering Hiccup preferred the quieter techniques of attaining crew members.

But he chose to think about that later as he faced Lout, already on the stage. The man was brandishing his axe, easily hiking it back and swinging a few times for show. Hiccup was about to ask if they were ready when the axe's blade skirted by, nicking his nose. He leaned back in time to dodge the second blow. Shifting his weight back onto his good leg, Hiccup pulled out his scimitar, the black hilt catching hints of blue in the candlelight.

Lout whistled. "I bet that sword's worth a pretty coin in the markets. I'll be sure to sell it when I take it as my prize!" He thrust the front of the axe directly at Hiccup's chest, but found it blocked by the sword's flat side, illuminating his shocked face.

Hiccup grimaced. The guy had some strength, which was probably a given. Outmuscling him would be a nightmare. His eyes flickered to the dull side of the blade only for a moment. Ducking, the sword allowed the axe's momentum to push forward to hit nothing but air, forcing Lout's balance to become unsteady. Hiccup crouched and aimed to hit the dull side against the man's shins. But a blunt force to his back knocked the air out of his lungs and he fell, the scimitar kicked from his grasp.

Lout had used the momentum to bring the axe downward, using its flat face to slam into the boy's back. It was an excellent move, Hiccup admitted sourly. When he pushed himself up and reached out for the sword, however, Lout stepped onto his ink-stained hand─ not his sword hand. The Prince gaped but otherwise showed no pain.

Neat little trick that Sir Ithel had taught him.

Many people, if they succeeded in knocking the still considerably heavy scimitar from Hiccup's grasp, immediately went for the weapon if they saw him reaching for it. So, instead of injuring his sword hand, why not allow the other to assume he had the high ground? Besides, the scimitar─

"OO _OOWWWW_!" his opponent screeched as his unworthy fingers gripped the scimitar's dragon hilt. The heat instantly seared layers of skin and Lout backed away in pain.

Spinning on the floor, Hiccup's metal prosthesis─ a gift for a Captain from Sir Gobber, a wonderful blacksmith─ smacked into Lout's heels and the man fell. Using the negative space in his metal leg, he kept spinning until his sword was hooked and tossed into the air. He stood on his good leg and caught the sword's gently warm hilt in his left hand. Readjusting his grip, he spun around and dug his blade into Lout's already rebounding swing. Hiccup had heard his opponent's heavy footsteps and grunt early enough, but his hand still recoiled from the surprising amount of force.

Both released their stance and jumped in again, exchanging hits and swings, misses and near-deadly blows. The rhythm of the footwork and the metal clashing against metal served as a sharp, quick beat that kept Hiccup's body in check as he moved with Lout's attacks. His right arm was cut open in several places, judging by the rips in the shirt and the trickling of blood staining it. But Lout looked worse for wear after a few minutes. His axe had several chips and his blows were sluggish. One last thrust and Hiccup was able to use the dull side to push the axe's wooden limb to the ground, a mere fingertip's length from his metal foot. Lout slumped to his knees, barely conscious.

Away from the crowds gathering near the stage, Toothless flicked his gaze toward the bartender. He had made his way to the backroom and reappeared with several local guardsmen. Alarmed, Toothless's posture straightened. _Hiccup, we've gotta go!_

In his mind, Hiccup saw the guards and hoisted Lout's arm around his shoulders. He turned to Astrid. "Looks like we've got ourselves a new cannon gunman."

"Ooh, he'll like that," Astrid agreed, running up to take Lout's other arm over her shoulders. Damn, he was heavy.

They ran as best they could toward the entrance. That was, until a guard was flown past them, crashing into a nearby booth filled with screaming customers. Hiccup glared at Toothless, who was already wrestling down the second guard with tooth and nail. Forcing a sigh, he heaved forward and ran for the door, Astrid and Lout in tow. Moments later and Toothless reappeared, running like the wind past his Captain.

 _Toothless, force them to unfurl the sails! We need to catch the eastern wind as soon as we climb aboard._

 _Already ahead of you!_ Toothless picked up speed as a deep laugh purred in his throat. He was already at the boat's port side and climbing the ladder that several sailors had chucked over the railing

 _I see that._ Hiccup rolled his eyes.

He could have said it was a narrow escape, but it really wasn't. The outskirts of Senja didn't have much in the way of defense, so they were cleared for international waters before a second alarm could be raised.

* * *

 **A/N:Long time, no see! In this case, over several months… please don't kill me! ;-;**

 **I've had to commit nearly full time on my thesis, I was struggling through classes, and I found out I'll have to apply for a third job to keep myself afloat. That and diagnoses of anxiety and depression, which I've known about for years. But recently, I've even neglected my art, which I always enjoyed. Hopefully, writing a bunch for my thesis will also make me want to write more for this. I've been wanting to write a bunch for this for a long time, so be prepared to see chapters coming a little more quickly!**

 **The breathy voice-turned-song in the beginning was a type of herding call named kuhlning which turned into the song called "I Riden S** **å" by Gjallarhorn. I changed it to English because the verses I picked were important.**

 **Also, on AO3 and DA, there is a map excerpt for this chapter that shows the travelling routes of the chapter. This will be done for any major development in a chapter with a lot of movement. Elder the 1st (their FF name) suggested this a little while ago and I've had the time to implement it! Thanks a bunch!**

 **A big thank-you to those who follow this piece. It really means a lot to me that you guys enjoy this. I've enjoyed it so far and the story in my mind really wants to be written. Thank you, readers!**

 **Have a great day/night! :)**


	11. Chapter 10

_Chapter 10 - The Arte of Suggestion_

* * *

The beach was quietest on a night like this, the water crawling up the damp sand and retreating back into the depths. The village of Tooks was on the other side of the beach, miles away. The only house near this small inlet was owned by an estranged, eccentric old man who once belonged on Drago's crew, four years ago. After an outlandish stunt in Synerthos, he had had enough and taken it upon himself to abandon his position: jailor to a poor teenage girl they had kidnapped.

"Where is she?"

The man shivered, his heart beating fast and cold sweat beading on his forehead. A thick, sharp icicle was poised between his eyes, square on the bridge of his nose. The tip was already tinged red, dripping onto his face mockingly. If it weren't for the ice freezing his feet and hands in place, he would have run. He had fallen back when the intruder had taken him by surprise after supposedly having let him go. He thought he had already answered the young man's questions. It seemed the young man wouldn't be done until the elder was dead.

"I told you," the man coughed. The attacker had previously carved a long, thin cut across half his neck, barely missing vital spots. "Last I heard they were headed for─"

"Why…" the young man's voice struggled not to break, tears welling up in his eyes. They were a fierce blue that put the ocean in broad daylight to shame. "Why did you leave her with him? _Why didn't YOU_ ─" His hand holding the staff with a magical ice spearhead wound back, aiming to take the man's head clean off. The ex-jailor closed his eyes and awaited the warm embrace of the Skyward Seas.

"Jack! You bloody show pony! What are you─ crikey!"

Ice was kicked and the man was set free, his hands and feet jarred from the sudden sensation. He looked to his side and saw the intruder being shoved around by a second, taller stranger. This one was broader, had more muscles, and frankly, looked meaner. With that assessment, the man fled from the scene, praying he could lock his door and still move something heavy in front of it for good measure.

But the attacker never came back.

* * *

 _Nine months ago:_

One week after boarding General Pitchiner's ship, Jack's ever-present anxiety for his sister had risen and held steadfast. The Captain had promised that they were closing in on Drago's ship and Jack had to be patient. Meanwhile, he could help with various things about the ship. One of his bigger assignments, however, was to find out who was eating from their food storages. If it were rats, deal with them. Pitchiner never said how, but Jack could imagine the worst. Not that he would do the worst, not ever. Hurting poor animals was not necessarily part of his skill set.

Opening the latch to head down to the next floor, he kept his staff close to his person. He didn't want to use it if he didn't need to, so long as whatever it was didn't hear him approaching. Luckily, he was light on his feet and was able to catch the culprit red-handed.

"Aster?" Jack's voice echoed in the cargo hold below deck. He had seen his boss─ well, former boss, now─ peek out of hiding from behind an open sack of carrots. "Is that you?"

"Ah, good question," the dock supervisor stood up, his height made more dramatic by the low ceiling of the hold. No shirt─ that was normal when he had been working─ and his braid and newfound beard were disheveled. He had a carrot in his hand, half-eaten. "I suppose I should point out the obvious by saying 'yes.'"

It was just too ridiculous. Jack shook his head and laughed. "I didn't think I'd see you so soon. Why did you board the ship?" He rested against the doorframe, spinning his staff idly.

In truth, he was getting bored pranking the other sailors. They didn't take to his humor well─ cutting holes in unused sailcloth (how was he supposed to know that they were spare sheets?) and over-mopping already wet areas on deck just to freeze it over, to name a few─ and it had gotten him into trouble several times with the Quartermaster. She was some brutish lady named Onyx that Jack had at first mistaken for a man. Of course, seeing her more than once a day definitely showed Jack that she had a haunting beauty about her, once he got past the beady yellow eyes, long face, and surprising amount of musculature. He made sure not to comment on _that_ twice.

Aster scoffed. "I'd like ta ask you the same thing, mate," he narrowed his eyes and pointed the carrot in the young boy's direction. "Trustin' that wannabe Berkian devil ain't wise."

Jack's light face darkened momentarily, but he rolled his eyes to hide it. Walking up to Aster, he grabbed the carrot from his giant hand and pointed it right back, jabbing it lightly into his abs. "Drago took my sister. And his name is _General Pitchiner._ He is helping me rescue her."

"I heard my name?" The Berkian voice appeared out of thin air, his shadow blocking the light coming from the top of the stairs. He took his steps down the stairs slowly, knowing neither would move anywhere before he could see them. When they came into view, his eyebrows rose slightly, but not enough to hint at any level of surprise. Jack turned to face him and bowed slightly. One week was long enough to know that General Pitchiner was a Captain that commanded respect, especially when he had allowed Jack to live relatively free amongst the other workers and sailors.

"You remember Mr. Bunnymund, don't you?" Jack asked. "He was my boss back in Synerthos."

"Hmm, yes," Pitchiner nodded, "I do recall. This is good news, Jack." He waited for the look of confusion from the two of them. "We needed a new cabin boy." He tossed a mop from inside a supply closet directly at the older man, who caught it after it had thumped hard against his bare chest.

Before Aster could argue beyond several stupefied expressions, Pitchiner turned and started heading up the stairs. Cutting the new cabin boy's retort off, he talked directly to Jack. "Jack, if I may ask, can we talk privately?"

Jack made a sidelong glance toward Aster. It seemed unfair, but he would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy seeing Aster doing _his_ old work for once. On the other hand, he felt obligated to help Aster clean. Or maybe he just wanted to get answers from him. Why would Aster bother leaving Synerthos? Jack nodded to the Captain. "I'll be right there."

"Now," Pitchiner added curtly. His tone changed Jack's mind.

Jack swore that he heard Aster murmur, "be careful, frostbite," as he left the cargo hold.

Once they walked into the Captain's quarters, Jack's uneasiness had doubled. He trusted Pitchiner. The Berkian had always been nice to him on his visits to Synerthos, offering stories of the broad world and occasionally a small gift. But something was off about this Pitchiner. This one was a quiet, brooding mind with dull amber eyes. He stopped walking and watched the Captain's ghost-like movement as he went behind his desk and shuffled some objects around without a word.

The quarters were the same as other rooms in the ship, the only difference being that this large one hosted only one person instead of twenty to fifty. Various maps were tacked up on the walls, and the bed in the far corner by the windows was actually a bed and not a standard cot. Jack wished he could sleep in a bed; the nights he had spent down in the forecastle─ the fo'c'sle, as the other sailors called it─ were irritable at best. The cots were tied between the support beams in a bunking fashion, and as such they tended to swing wildly with the waves. Jack often fell off twice a night at least. And he prided himself on being able to sleep in trees without getting a cramp in his neck or a sore back in the morning! Falling off could still happen on that bed, but at least he would have warm blankets and be more or less stationary.

"You may rest there, if you wish, when I've finished our discussion," Pitchiner mentioned without looking up from a book that he had flipped open just a minute ago.

 _It hasn't even started…_ Jack's lip twitched in annoyance, still on guard and not taking the bed offer seriously. Why would a Captain offer up his bed to a young boy like him?

Pitchiner closed the book and returned his gaze to the young boy. This was almost too easy. "First, the good news. Drago's ship isn't far from us. Bad news, his ship is faster. Which is why we could not have caught up, despite leaving just after him. How does that happen?" He stole Jack's untold question. "Drago, it seems, understands the concept of magic far better than you or I do. I can assume you know what I am talking about?"

Jack nodded. He only partially understood.

"Well, in using his Artes─ you know this too?" Pitchiner asked, and Jack nodded again, "─ he was able not only to teleport to his ship, otherwise his crew would have no direction, but also to propel the ship faster than normal, with speeds up to 15 knots."

Jack stared blankly. His understanding fell to the floor.

As clarification: "We travel currently at 6 knots."

That wasn't necessarily what he wanted clarification on, but even without knowledge of the unit of speed, the reference was enough. Fear and anger rose in Jack. "Then why aren't we going faster? I don't care if he's on that ship or not; Emma is! We have to catch up to them! Who─ who _knows_ what's happening to her!"

Pitchiner lowered his head and pinched his brow. "I know, Jack. But believe me, we are going the fastest we can. In the meantime…"

The Captain looked the boy in his soul. "You need to learn to fight."

Over a period of three months, Jack studied just about everything from magic to sailing to fighting under Pitchiner. The black cloud he had used on Drago back on Synerthos had to be an Arte, meaning that Pitchiner had found his Center. The Captain kept his Center close to his heart and made sure that Jack committed to finding it in the same way. With the focus of rescuing Emma, Pitchiner taught and practiced magic with Jack whenever free time and space could be found on the ship. When there was neither, he made sure Jack was kept busy by the boatswain, carpenter, gunners, or riggers on board─ much to their chagrin. They often complained when Jack didn't listen completely or messed up their supplies in order to joke around. Once or twice Pitchiner was called on to take care of _his_ boy. After this happened well over ten times, Pitchiner had begun to scold the boy more harshly. It was never anything serious─ that was what Jack said whenever Aster instigated─ just empty threats and claps on the shoulders. Most of the time, however, Jack was treated like…

Like he was Pitchiner's son.

Jack felt like he had a father again. On most late nights, when they were sparring and conjuring, the Captain made sure that Jack did everything right and encouraged him when he made progress. Of course, encouragement was in the form of backhanded compliments. _I'm sure you could defeat a dead cat, and that's better than where you started_ or _just a couple paces to the left and you might have caught my ankle, not that any force of yours would have injured it_ were several examples, but considering the Captain's language with everyone else, Jack took this as high praise. In testing his abilities, the ice that used to seep from his bare feet whenever he walked would now hold itself back. His cool touch no longer froze wood or snapped important lines holding furled sails in place. But merely controlling his powers was something Sir North had been teaching him for the past three years. He wanted to know how to attack! Drago had made it clear that fateful day: Jack could not save his sister just by hiding his frost and attacking haphazardly.

"So when are you gonna teach me how to use those Arte things? Because I don't understand how I'm supposed to fight if all I'm doing is covering my tracks," Jack was wiping his brow after another lost spar, his staff at his feet. He refused to fight with the knives and pistols that Pitchiner tried to give him; he couldn't toss aside his only reminder of home. Besides, knives and swords were for higher-ranking shipmates and the pistols were too loud for Jack's liking. Anything he lacked in ranged attacks he made up for by being light and quick on his feet. His stubbornness earned him a heavy lesson, though, with Pitchiner's artful swordwork. The swordwork itself included magic, which irked Jack more.

Pitchiner's right hand sword was a standard cutlass, nothing special. But the left hand sword wasn't even a sword. The entire thing was a solid black substance in the shape of a sword, only bleeding from the bottom of the hilt where the black seeped out of existence and back into reality at the bottom of the hilt to his real sword. Jack guessed that it acted as a chain, since the surreal sword was swung more wildly from Pitchiner's hand and often reached further, but was able to be pulled back by some invisible rein in the Captain's hand. It meant, more often than not, that Jack was caught off guard and clipped by the stupid blade. His once white shirt already had begun to seem more red as time passed. Pitchiner did not like to pull punches.

The Captain laughed at Jack's question, sitting above him on a crate, resting against the rope lattice. "You think you can just master an Arte by being shown one? You know what, I'm feeling generous. Do feel free to actually listen, brat."

Jack may or may not have been known for ignoring Pitchiner's scoldings once or twice. Knowing this, he pulled his feet into a cross-legged position and waited, feigning polite attention. That earned him a light smack on the shoulder. The one Pitchiner had just hit in their spar not two minutes ago. Oww.

"Artes," the Captain began, glancing out over the sea on this clear night, the moon but a sliver overhead, "are a culmination of magical ability─ which you know about fairly well at this point─ Will, and Center. A Center gives purpose, a Will serves that purpose, and magical ability carries out the purpose. Many start with some sort of magical capabilities, although few already have enough Will to counteract any magic without even knowing it. Fewer still start out with both magic and Will. And almost never has anyone started by knowing their Center."

"Almost," Jack repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Amber eyes flitted over Jack's features and back toward the Sea. A raven flew away from the height of the main mast, dissipating into the night. Pitchiner scowled. "Hmm, a curiosity it is…"

Jack, not seeing the bird that was oddly far from land, decided not to press further in that regard. "But how can someone serve or carry out a purpose if they never start with a purpose?"

Amber became honey. "That is called chaos, and is the backbone of the Earthen Seas. Common men thrive in chaos, because it means they don't have to live constrained by rules. They Willed their way through life. You would probably think of it as determination, hard work, or 'pulling up by the bootstraps…' although you probably wouldn't, would you?" The Captain idly gestured toward Jack's bare feet.

Jack shrugged. His bare feet never bothered him. They felt freer on the dirt than inside a sole. "So Will just means you're putting in a lot of effort?"

"Effort," Pitchiner held up a second finger, "and belief. Belief in yourself. If you don't think you can lift a large anchor, do you expound any effort? Ah, but if you believe, you start to put in effort. If other people are around, and see you trying, they may also believe that you can. Belief is fragile, however. And someone trained in Will can sense this belief from others which, through some concentration, can be added to their own belief. The more belief that you have in yourself, the harder that you will try. Say your magical ability is to lift heavy objects ten times your size─ which doesn't count much for you─ then you can use your Will to force your magical ability outward as an extension of your physical body. In this example, the extension is the physical exertion of strength. For you…?"

"...My ice?" State the obvious, Jack. Way to go.

"Ah, congratulations!" Pitchiner clapped Jack's injured shoulder yet again. Another wince from the poor boy. "You've passed primary! Would you like a reward?"

"Why not another magic trick?" Jack grumbled, annoyed by the condescending tone. He wasn't a kid anymore. Wait… when did that happen? "But if that's all it takes," Jack added quickly before Pitchiner could react to his earlier statement, "what's the difference in having a Center?"

"A Center, my boy, helps keep the senses sharp. It keeps your Will in check, meaning that belief is easier to hold, less fragile. It makes your magic keener, more intricate, more… powerful, essentially. Without a Center, your magic will melt away."

Jack glared, although the Captain paid no mind to him. "Did you just─"

The grin appeared briefly before disappearing in a clearing of his throat. "Of course, there are ways to use Artes if your Center is lacking, but that requires more… intense training. We'll start tomorrow. You can go ahead and sleep in the Captain's quarters tonight. I've matters to attend." He began walking toward the bow, hands clasped behind his back.

Jack stood to follow. "Matters? This late? ...early?" He wasn't actually sure what time it was. Always lost track when they sparred.

"Go to bed, Jack," Pitchiner called over his shoulder, "and sweet dreams."

"'Night…" Jack's eyebrows knit together, but he let the questions fade away for tonight. Standing up had made him realize just how worn out he was after a long day. And sleeping in the Captain's quarters meant that he could sleep past sunrise, which was a rare occurrence. A rare occurrence that he would thoroughly enjoy before whatever program Pitchiner had in store for him threw his body into utter turmoil.

* * *

Pitchiner waited until he heard the door to the rooms below the quarterdeck shut and lock, as he had taught the young boy with white hair to do not long after he joined the _Rhaefr._ He walked past the foremast and past the forecastle until he was at the very front of the ship, facing the bow sprit that jutted out above the open waters. It was pointing toward their due course, a medium-sized island by the name of Skelliga, whose only name-worthy port was Ku. He would have Jack prepared for the next raid, he was sure. The skittish Kidemonian from Synerthos─ Jack's old, ornery boss─ would have to be kept below deck. Pitchiner knew that man, and he knew what trouble he could cause being so near to Jack. But he also knew the trouble he could cause by being taken away from Jack as well, and that would not end nearly as pretty.

Holding his palms outward, flat and facing the skies, he breathed in the salty air and felt it reach into the deepest part of his lungs. Set afire, the magic inside him kindled, stoked by his Will into being. From his hands flowed black sands that shimmered under the stars. The shape quickly formed, a sign of impatient agitation.

"I see you watched our little lesson tonight. That damn bird is a nuisance." There was no need for pleasantries. "What do you think?"

"Just because a boy is curious about Artes doesn't mean he has the enhanced capabilities of the Key. Everyone's impressed by the big, flashy magic at first." A brief pause. "How long do you plan to lie to this boy?"

"I told no lie," Pitchiner pursed his lips, eyes a fiery yellow. "There are ways. But that you needn't worry over. It has to be this boy. I've known him since he started work in Synerthos─ the very place your _informant_ said the Guardian would be."

"Loki said the Key dropped to Kidemonas. Synerthos was a guess, seeing as it had the most people. I was betting the Key would not have left. But something… something is off." Drago's rough voice pitched high and low from the imperfect connection. The illusion's likeness was back on Kidemonas, lying low in the sewers of Synerthos. His actual ship with the precious cargo, however, was still ahead of Pitchiner's ship. A ruse for the ages.

"The Flooding of Burgeon was the likely aftermath of the Key dropping, but Loki said that the Key did not seem to have chosen a Guardian. It just fell."

Anger flashed and the sands quivered out of focus, Will lessened by the overpowering emotions. Pitchiner scowled. "Are you telling me it's back on Kidemonas?! Why in the Skyward Seas would Loki hold that information back?!" He thought about that. "Never mind. It _is_ Loki," although he hated using religion as a reason for failure.

"Not necessarily. The Key does not seem to have changed hands. It does, however, seem to have chosen a Host instead."

"Which means…?" Pitchiner narrowed his eyes. All this supernatural talk was beyond him. Never much of a religious fanatic after Fovos broke his faith, heart, and Center.

"We have a new objective… keep him alive."

The original plan had been to release Jack's Center, which was supposed to allow easier access to grab the Key while killing the boy in the midst of using an Arte. For Artes, although powerful, were used at a man's weakest point. Using an Arte left a Center wide open for attack. And if a Key Guardian's Center was destroyed, the Key would be released. But now, as Drago continued to explain, the plan would go a little differently.

* * *

Jack rolled his shoulders and pulled at his neck, leaving behind a trail of frost to soothe his swelling muscles. It was the least amount of magic he could use after what he'd just done.

A sailor was caught stealing already dwindling rations of food and meade. They were yet to reach port, and every morsel counted. Normally, the Quartermaster was the one to deal with the troublemakers. Pitchiner, however, talked Onyx into letting Jack deal with them so he could practice his growing abilities. The sailor had not taken Jack seriously, so he had to use more force than he'd liked. The poor thing had more frostbitten fingers than normal fingers, especially since the normal fingers were now gone. Jack had been reassured by Pitchiner that the punishment was just and that the sailor would be back to work in the morning. He said that every time Jack had doled out his Will. It was becoming stronger day by day. And day by day, any poor being who was met by his ice was never seen for work the next morning as promised.

The magic he conjured was never more than a well-fashioned icicle, but he learned to be efficient with it. His sparring sessions with the Captain had taught him plenty, but he was no closer to finding his Center, let alone his sister. The thought of her, alone and surrounded by ill-intentioned pirates, made his heart ache. He was willing to do anything to get her back, and the months at sea was slowly crushing his spirit. The more he felt helpless, the more he leaned on Pitchiner and his words, and the stronger his Will became. Most of the people on the ship now knew of Jack and his powers, and they were in awe─ the kind of awe approaching fear. Aster had mentioned that in passing, but as usual, Jack paid the former boss no mind.

"Jack!" Ah, there he was now.

"What do you want, Aster?" After only six months on the _Rhaefr_ , Jack had already dropped the title of respect from Mr. Bunnymund's name. He looked down the mizzen mast from the lower crow's nest; there were two on each mast, one higher than the other, him being on the lower of the mast furthest to the back. He had been helping a rigger check the knots on the back lateen sail, a large triangular sail that connected to the bottom of the main mast all the way to the furthest hook at the stern, passing by the mizzen mast. Jack had the better balance, so he was often the one sent out over the wooden rigs, practically floating in the air with no support.

Aster had been yelling from the poop deck, the tallest standing deck on the ship. "Pitch' says he's got some news for ya and ta see 'im immediately." Aster had taken to nicknaming the Captain in recent months, sometime after Jack had started his official Arte training.

Jack secured another knot and tiptoed his way back to the railing and shimmied down the mast, landing beside Aster with quiet grace. "Do you know what about?"

Aster put a large hand on the pale boy's shoulder. "Listen, Ah'm tellin' ya he's using you. If you are gonna do whatever he says, at least think about it with a grain o' salt, mate. He'll say anything ta get ya t'do what 'e wants. But it has something t'do with your siste─ Frostbite!"

Jack was already running, jumping down to the lower decks and ignoring the ladders and stairs altogether. Wind flew past his hair, feathering his ears and throwing sea salt into his eyes. His lungs tightened but he pushed forward and turned on a dime, hooking around the main mast and flinging himself into the officer's quarters, which were just before the Captain's quarters farther in. Pitchiner had information on his sister, finally! Finally, finally, finally!

"Where is she?!" Jack burst into the room. Pitchiner and Onyx were hunched over his desk, discussing some maps that Jack didn't care about. Neither party seemed surprised at the sudden addition to the room.

Pitchiner whispered something and dismissed Onyx. Her gaze landed on Jack with a quiet scowl as she walked past him out the door. Turning to Jack, Pitchiner's eyes were wary. "Now, Jack, you'll have to slow down. We've found a ship docked at an unmarked island close to here that _seems_ to have Drago's pennant."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Jack asked indignantly. "Let's go and save her!"

Pitchiner clasped his hands together and pressed his thumbs to his forehead. "Jack, we don't know if she's on _that_ ship. Drago has tens─ hundreds of ships, even. It could be a trap, it could be an abandoned vessel─"

"Then let me go on it," Jack insisted, "we can go at nightfall, I'll sneak onto the ship and if she's there, I'll rescue her. If not, I'll find out what I can."

The Captain appeared to ponder the boy's offer. He unclasped his hands and tapped them on the desk rhythmically, quick and calculating. "Drago has magic users. Are you sure you can get past them?"

Jack knew the question wasn't really a question. Pitchiner had tested Jack on his stealth many times on the ship at night. It was a sort of hide-and-seek that they played when Pitchiner was tired of teaching him to fight. Every time, however, Pitchiner was always able to appear right in front of Jack just before he could get to the specified checkpoint. Only once had Jack beaten Pitchiner at the game, and still the Captain admitted he had let Jack win. Infuriating, yes, but there had to be a point. The Captain was the most silent person Jack had ever met. For Jack to beat him just once was enough to set Jack's standard high. Jack simply nodded.

"Are you sure you know what to do if they try to escape?"

Jack paused briefly, remembering Aster's words, before nodding.

"Very well," Pitchiner said. "We'll be there by sunset. Wait on my signal. Once you've done your part, I expect you'll help with your first raid?"

* * *

Crouched just above the sprit sail, over the ocean and outside the ship, ice blue eyes pierced the night. Scanning the black waters that lapped at the unmoving ship's hull, Jack figured most of the crew was sleeping at this time of night. He couldn't make out any guards, but if they were there, he would find out soon enough. Closing his eyes, he emptied all physical feeling, trusting that his body would not lose its balance. A pool inside him churned, heating up and beginning to move outward to the rest of his body. He sensed a strong soul nearby, belief emanating off of it like an aura. A deep breath. Added to his Will, the magic began to seep from his fingertips. Frost climbed up his hands, wrists, feet, arms, legs, shoulders, and his chest underneath his white shirt, tattered after months and months of constant wear. A wild crackling filled his senses, the ferocity and unbridled freedom of the ice flowing in his veins that had long ago stopped pumping.

As the magic built up, he began to store it within himself, saving it for when he would need it. For if his sister was on that ship, he could guarantee that anyone holding him back would be asking for their life's end.

 _Could I really kill someone?_

He had already killed plenty, but he didn't know that.

In his peripheral vision, Jack saw Pitchiner's shape shifting against the main mast. A sudden flick of his wrist and bright yellow eyes bored into the desperate boy. Go time.

Jack leapt to the water below and bent his knees to absorb the shock from landing on solid ice. Fractals of power splayed from his feet as he crept along the surface of the calm water. His steps were small, short at first. Then a surer, more confident step, and another, and another, and he was running. The only sound that could be heard was the faint crackle of frost as it met the gentle waters.

When he was able to touch the hull, he paused. He gathered belief from Pitchiner back on the _Rhaefr_ and Willed himself to jump, gripping the rotted siding of the boat and sealing his grip in ice. Another jump and he was over the railing, diving to the side behind an exposed cannon. Ice silenced. He peered around the woodwork and discerned that no one was on the main deck. Maybe they were switching rounds on the quarterdeck. If that was the case, he was in the clear. The main mast was forward and to his right, in the direction of the quarterdeck. He snuck around the far side of the cannon and slipped over to the mast, careful not to leave a trail.

A creak. To his left. In an instant, an ice shard was conjured and hurled in the direction of the noise. A learned instinct since Jack had gotten used to tracking Pitchiner based on less sound. There was no retaliation, so Jack's attack either hit directly, missed entirely, or there was nothing and he was paranoid. One second later and a section of rotted railing fell away, the ice shard melting as it dissipated into the water. Jack sighed. He was being paranoid.

Paranoia was soon replaced by anger. The guards hadn't been alerted by a part of their ship breaking off? They must lack any sort of discipline. Pitchiner would have had someone hanged for that. Whatever the case, Jack made a break for it. Surely if they couldn't hear that, they wouldn't be able to hear him.

He found that the door to the officer's quarters were unlocked and the room empty, as was the case for the infirmary, the warrant officer's quarters, and the brig. It had taken several misleading turns and one or two awkward exchanges with the uneasy atmosphere, but Jack had found the brig and was whispering against the eyehole.

"Emma?" He muttered with the first inkling of hope in his voice. "Emma…?"

"Jack?" He heard faintly. "Jack, is that you?"

"EMMA!" Jack cried out, all pretense gone. Let them come to take him from her! He would tear them apart. "Emma! Emma!" Peeking through the eyepiece, he began freezing the hinges so that he could take the door off. Faster and harder, his ice was pouring out of his soul. She was a small lump in the corner that slowly began to stand. "Emma, thank the goddess, you're alright! I swear, _I swear,_ I meant to come find you earlie─"

Emma's head didn't look right. Her one red eye didn't look right. Her hunched shoulder and missing arm didn't look right. Her struggling groan of a voice didn't sound right. Her stench─ though stinking after any amount of time on a ship was normal─ didn't smell anything like she had been imprisoned almost a year ago. The smell was older, nastier, and not right in the slightest. The door hitches clacked to the floor.

The figure on the other side of the now weakened door wasn't Emma.

The door was blown down, bringing Jack with it. Extra weight was pressed onto the dead wood, crushing his useless lungs. The top edge of the door caught Jack's throat and he was unable to utter more than a few grunts. His eyes were wide and the blue was beginning to dull. Fingers pinned between the wooden planks scratched spurted out the last of his magic stores in vain. The creature leaned down to glare with its bloody eye at the little boy filled with fear. A ghoulish breath reminiscent of long-dead fish escaped its lips, causing Jack to cough. The long arm had spindly, spiny fingers, longer than a kitchen knife, poised above Jack's head, dripping with what immediately felt like a numbing agent. A drop fell onto Jack's lower lip. A helpless sneer formed. Tears were trailing down the far sides of his face, his eyes forced to stay open and trained on his─ second─ death.

" _Em_ mmmaaahh _hh_ ─ is─ she─ _ee_ is not─ heeee _eeeeerrrreeeeee_ ee… my─ my _foooooo_ oood..."

The fear of not finding his sister. The fear of dying again. Coldness enveloped his toes and fingers. The fear of this unknown creature. The fear that he would never see home again. Coldness enveloped his limbs and over his stomach and shoulders. The fear that he was failing _so many others_ … The fear. The fear travelled the same way. The fear. The fear and the cold were one, closing in on his still heart. The fear. The fear. The _fear_ …

"You. Will. _Fear. Me._ "

* * *

Aster stormed his way over to Pitchiner. Something wasn't right. He'd seen Jack leave the boat. If the boy was gone, he had to go after him. He'd promised Sir North.

"Cap'n Pitch'ner!" He roared as he approached the figure leaning against the main mast, staring at the empty boat just out of reach. "What's the meaning o' this? Where's Jack gone? When's he gonna be back?"

"Oh, go suck an egg, you foolish rabbit! Jack's doing just fine." But the Captain's furrowed brows said otherwise. It had been over half an hour since Jack ventured onto the boat. He should have figured out nothing was on the fraudulent boat by now. It was neither Drago's ship nor the ship that held Jack's sister. What was taking him so long? If Pitchiner wasn't keen on keeping poised in front of the potential fork in his plans, he would have gone to seek out Jack in a heartbeat. He couldn't lose his ticket to controlling the Berkian Peninsula by his own mistakes. He couldn't make mistakes. He only knew how to execute plans, and this was the first one to go badly. His stunt at the Berkian wedding had worked in his favor. The prince was gone─ vanished─ and he could focus on getting what he deserved after so many years and so many lies. A deep breath. Over-analyzing before he had even seen the results.

"You mean he's doing exactly what you want him to do," the annoying cabin boy obstructed his view, easily equal in height.

"I did want to help him find his sister," Pitchiner mentioned offhandedly as he tried to dodge around the man's stature.

Several things happened at once. There was the excessive cracking and snapping of ocean-stained boards. There was the whipping echo of ice splitting in the open air. And there was the orb of pale blue light that escalated to an intense, glowing cerulean that exploded before anything else. The wind blasted against the _Rhaefr_ , causing the boat to drift off, dragging the anchor. Splinters sailed through the air and those on deck ducked and dodged, dove and prayed for safety. A few men fell where they stood, blood staining the deck. The ear-shattering _boom_ paired with the lightning-ice fractals drowned out any noise of surprise and death.

Aster had hit the ground faster than the others, unfortunately unhurt. Pitchiner had stood stock still, wooden shrapnel splaying around him but never landing anywhere on his person. The shimmering shadow disintegrated and small pieces of wood fell harmlessly to the deck. The uneven glow of pale blue light was still so intense that the Captain had to hold up a hand and squint. What in the Skyward Seas had happened? He knew Jack well: there was no conceivable reason the boy would be this upset about an empty vessel. Unless Drago...

Then he saw it. As did Aster when he stood up to yell at Pitchiner only to come to the same sight and similar conclusion.

"Oh no."

Standing─ no, _floating_ ─ above the obliterated ship pieces in the choppy waters was a boy, his pants torn and shirt shredded into nonexistence, exposing his crystallized back. Ice flared across and rescinded from the surface like a heartbeat below the figure. Inbetwixt the shoulder blades, a strange, moving tattoo beamed dark in contrast to his pallid complexion. From this distance, even Aster knew the unmistakable mark of the Skyward Seas' disapproval. A dragon's likeness─ black with a flash of red─ flew about the boy's back, finally circling around an intricate, angular… snowflake? Aster was assuming, but it sounded correct. Sir North would be furious at Aster for letting this happen if the cabin boy ever found his way back to Synerthos now. Dread glued his feet in place and stopped his heart for a moment. The boy turned around and stared with cold, black eyes that slowly returned to an eerily familiar blue hue.

An enchanted tattoo meant that Jack had become Rejected.

Pitchiner wanted to shout to the Skyward Seas. Whatever Drago had planted, it worked. _My assassin is ready!_

* * *

 **Translation Notes:**

Jack's description of Pitchiner's sword-and-shadow-sword technique is essentially what we would call a kusarigama or a chain-sickle, but instead of sickles, they are blades. Only one blade is physically real, but the chain and other sword are made from Pitchiner's magic. The other parts are Pitchiner's shadow magic at work. You can look it up for clarification!

* * *

 **A/N: Hey, guys! Sorry this chapter took so long, but now you can see why! It's certainly the longest chapter so far. I'm sure most of them from here on out will be a tad bit shorter. ~6600 words takes forever and 10+ pages is a lot to review. Either way, I hope you enjoyed it! Have a great day/night! :)**


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